


Season of the Witch

by gryffindor17



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: AKA Derek Has A Lady BFF and She Helps Him Get the D, Alive Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Character, BAMF Stiles, Canon Typical Violence, Character Death, Dead Allison, F/M, Hale Family Feels, Jealous Stiles, M/M, Magic Stiles, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, PTSD Stiles, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles, Possessive Derek, Prom, Slow Build, Temporary Character Death, post season 3B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:27:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 95,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gryffindor17/pseuds/gryffindor17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I just want to feel whole again.” Stiles said weakly, turning his head to look searchingly to Derek. “I’ve got all this…guilt…this pain…and it feels like it’s a part of who I am now. This…constant ache. I just wish there was a way to get rid of it.” </p><p>Stiles watched as something flickered to life in Derek’s eyes, and suddenly he was off like a rocket. </p><p>*</p><p>After the Nogitsune's been killed, Stiles still finds himself haunted by what it had done with his body. Try as they might, The Pack can't seem to console their friend... That is until Stiles mentions something that jogs Derek's memory and he takes off to find a friend from the past who he thinks can salvage Stiles's mind. After all, she'd done it for him.</p><p>And if she happens to become a part of the pack while she's at it, well, no one's really complaining.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Someone Who Can Help

It was always quiet, now. It was always deafeningly quiet and so cold despite the fact that they were well into summer.

School had let out not long after the Nogitsune was killed, but Stiles didn't feel the freedom everyone else did. If anything, he felt worse. At least at school he could focus on worksheets and reading instead of the constant, dull buzz that he couldn't push out of his head.

School had temporarily filled the void.

But now it was back, and it swallowed him whole randomly during the day. He’d wake up and immediately scramble to his desk to pick up the first book he could find – some ancient tome Derek had let him borrow – and read the first two paragraphs. His heart would continue to rabbit in his chest until he’d finished almost an entire chapter on the reproductive habits of ghouls which…ew. 

He’d set the book down with shaking hands and head for the shower, but once he was in there and closed his eyes under the spray, he was suddenly chilled to the bone and soaking wet, driving one of Kira’s blades through Scott’s abdomen, twisting and twisting and – twisting the fossett until the water stopped falling and he was alone and cold leaning up against the shower wall trying to catch his breath.

After slipping on whatever clothes caught his eye first, he’d amble downstairs. His father would be at work already, but there’d be a note with some sort of comforting message, not that Stiles really read them anymore. He didn't think he deserved the pity he was being shown, everyone should be furious at him, they should be livid, unforgiving…

Or maybe that was just the remnants of the Nogitsune talking.

Stiles would try to eat, but no matter what he made the second it was in his mouth he was retching, imagining yards upon yards of bandages spilling from his throat, never ending, leaving him gagging and crying and gasping for air at the dinner table like he was choking.

Scott would come by every day. Stiles would hear the roar of his motorbike coming down the street, and he’d barely shift his eyes from the television when he entered the room. He knew Scott didn’t hate him for what happened, but he should. 

He’d just have to hate himself enough for the both of them.

Scott would ask him simple questions, like ‘When’s the last time you showered?’ or ‘When’s the last time you had a full meal?’, and Stiles would lie and say it was that day, whatever day it was, and he’d try to ignore the disbelieving stare that his best friend would give him. Not that he could find it within him to care whether or not Scott believed him, but it would have been nice for his best buddy to at least pretend to believe him for once.

Every once and a while, Scott would call in the big guns, and Lydia would show up and demand the Stiles pick his sorry ass up and take care of himself. Stiles would stare at her blankly while she stood before him, arms crossed and defiant in the face of Stiles’s apathy. Eventually Stiles would concede, figuring that he could allow Lydia this one small happiness. After all, he’d only just killed her best friend.

Allison.

It was a name he woke up screaming nearly every night. It was her face that floated behind his eyelids every time he shut them for more than a moment. It was her laugh like music that he’d sometimes think he’d hear, but when he’d turned to look, it was gone. If she was haunting him, he deserved it, and in all honesty he didn’t mind. He’d take anything he could get, if it meant seeing Allison one last time. He needed to apologize, he needed to let her know that with every bone in his hallow, numb body he was sorry. He was so, so, so sorry. 

The pack tended to keep a closer eye on him at night, for obvious reasons. Stiles didn't mind, he preferred it, actually, and found himself uneasy and skittish during the five minutes it took for one member of the pack to leave the room only to be replaced by another. They worked in four hour shifts every night, so the two members watching Stiles on any given night could at least bank on half the recommended amount of sleep. 

Sometimes he’d wake up thrashing wildly, and he’d look up to see Erica with her waterfalls of golden hair holding his wrists down, yelling for Stiles to wake up, because it was just a dream. It was just another horrible, vivid dream of porcelain skin being pierced by a steel blade. 

Other times he’d scream himself hoarse while he slept, and Isaac would gently rock his shoulder until he shuddered awake. Isaac’s eyes would be brimming with sadness and he’d commiserate with Stiles over the loss of the archer. Sometimes it made Stiles feel better and sometimes it didn't. The times that he felt better were usually when Isaac offered him his scarf after one of their crying sessions, and he’d watch with muted horror as Stiles would blow his nose all over the fabric. Stiles would hand it back with a small smile and a laugh, and Isaac would smile, too. But mostly, when they were done talking about her, Stiles would watch the way the shadows of his room would cast eerily across Isaac’s strong features, and it seemed to only enhance his sadness. This would keep Stiles awake until Boyd stalked into the room, and Isaac left with a nod of his head, gingerly taking his snotty scarf with him.

The nights he got the best sleep was when Derek was there. 

Derek would pull a chair up right next to Stiles’s bed and pick up Stiles’s assigned summer reading book and begin reading it. Stiles would watch him as his eyes darted back and forth across the pages. Stiles wondered if he’d ever read his summer reading books when he was in school. It made him smile to think of a young Derek Hale Sparknoting the plot of _Wuthering Heights_ days before school was set to begin. Derek would remain quiet, not trying to soothe Stiles’s restless mind, or offer him his condolences, or try to give him advice on something he knew nothing about. Stiles liked that. He preferred to just watch the steady rise and fall of Derek’s chest, to bask in the fact that Derek was alive, Scott was alive, that there were still people who remained unharmed by Stiles and the Nogitsune. Derek never pried into the problem, and so the problem was temporarily at bay.

Derek usually stayed all night, a fact that Stiles didn’t learn until he’d found Derek asleep in the chair with _Wuthering Heights_ resting precariously against his chest, Kira hovering in the doorway.

“He told me to go home, but I just stayed in the living room. He said he could handle it.” She’s explained, and then she turned and left, so Stiles had gently rocked Derek awake.

Derek had the good sense to be embarrassed about being busted, and was still dawning a slight flush when he slipped through Stiles’s window, even though at this point he knew he was more than welcome to use the door.

Stiles looked forward to Derek’s visits the most. He’d even say he was excited for them, if Stiles was capable of feeling anything remotely close to excitement. It was during one of Derek’s nights that Stiles finally broke the silence between them.

“My dad says you wouldn't stop looking for me.” He’d said softly, and if Derek wasn’t a werewolf, he may not have heard it.

But he did, Stiles could tell as much by the way his shoulders tensed slightly, but he kept on reading, only saying, “He’s right.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?”

“I’m coming up blank, that’s why I’m asking.”

Derek huffed and tore his eyes from the book to look Stiles in the eyes, “You saved my life, and I was gonna do whatever it took to save yours.”

Stiles was reeling for two reasons: One because, woah, Derek Hale just strung together more than ten words and Two because, woah, Derek Hale just expressed some sort of loyalty toward him. In an attempt to cover up his spinning mind, Stiles croaked out a weak, “You didn’t have to do that.”

Derek scoffed and told him to get some sleep.

Stiles tried, but he felt words bubbling in his chest, and he knew that if he was ever gonna tell someone about what he was feeling, it would be Derek.

“I’m so empty, Der.” He said softly, his voice on the verge of cracking.

Derek turned his head and for the first time, he actually looked concerned. “What do you mean?”

“It’s how I feel…I can’t seem to get warm, I can’t seem to feel full…I’m open inside, I feel completely gutted, I…I…” Stiles reached above him as if he could pull the right words out of thin air, but finally gave up and dropped them at his sides.

Derek set the book aside and sat up in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he leant toward Stiles’s bed. “Keep going.”

Stiles shook his head weakly. “I’ve got nothing left.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it. You’ve got the pack; you’ve got your dad. C’mon Stiles, this isn’t you.” Derek said.

“It is now!” Stiles shrieked, and suddenly he was sitting in front of Melissa, duct tape still burning his face and his wrists bound before him, the same phrase seeping tauntingly from his lips as Melissa looked at him with heartache and betrayal. He was snapped back to the present by strong hands on his face, thumbs dragging across his cheeks to catch his falling tears.

Derek was shushing him gently, leaning over Stiles’s bed but being careful not to touch it. He was the only one who seemed to respect Stiles’s personal space like that, and Stiles always found that so ironic because Derek was the one he wished would invade it most. He let go of Stiles’s face and moved slowly back into his chair, convincing Stiles that this was reality, and that he was safe.

“I just want to feel whole again.” Stiles said weakly, turning his head to look searchingly to Derek. “I’ve got all this…guilt…this pain…and it feels like it’s a part of who I am now. This…constant ache. I just wish there was a way to get rid of it.”

Stiles watched as something flickered to life in Derek’s eyes, and suddenly he was off like a rocket. Stiles heard him pounding down the stairs, barking at who he assumed was Scott to get his ass to Stiles’s to watch over him.

Stiles stumbled out of bed to follow after him, shouting his name over and over, begging him to stay. He felt weak, but Derek had become so secure. Derek came on Thursdays. Derek read _Wuthering Heights_. Derek sat in the same chair. Derek always slept over. He was screwing with Stiles’s favorite routine, didn't he get that?

But Derek didn't stop, and Stiles was left standing stupidly in his front door, watching the headlights of the Camaro tear ass down his suburban street.

Scott was there a few minutes later, having run on foot to save time, and he asked Stiles why Derek would call him at two in the morning sounding like he’d just solved the mystery of the universe.

After reviewing everything he’d said to Derek over the course of the night, Stiles still had no idea.

Scott stayed over until the end of what was usually Derek’s shift.

Stiles didn't sleep at all.

***

No one heard from Derek for another day and a half. The first Stiles saw of him since he fled his house like his ass was on fire was when he was vaulting through his window during Scott’s usual night shift. He looked like he’d barely been sleeping, and was clutching a piece of paper in his hand. He barely spared Stiles and Scott a formal greeting before grabbing Scott by the elbow and telling him to call in Isaac, because they had to go.

“Go?” Stiles and Scott both asked in unison. Scott clearly didn't understand where the hell he was going, and Stiles was petrified at the prospect of his favorite watch dogs up and leaving.

“I know someone who can help.” Derek said cryptically, his body already halfway out Stiles’s window once again. He was shaking the paper in his hand in front of Scott’s face, and allowed the boy to take it from him.

Scott’s eye bulged and he looked incredulously at Derek. “Louisiana? Derek, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“It’s just over a day’s drive to get there, and with my driving, we’ll be there and back in two.” Derek explained, gesturing to the car idling in Stiles’s driveway. “Come on!”

“Wait, wait, wait: Who is this ‘someone who can help’, where do you know them from, and why the hell are they all the way out in Louisiana?” Stiles asked, becoming more flustered with every question.

Derek rolled his eyes, “An old friend. Now are you coming or not?” He asked Scott, ignoring Stiles’s cry of “You don’t _have_ friends!”

Scott looked torn, “Derek, are you sure about this? You’re not always the greatest judge of character…”

Derek actually looked affronted, “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“Need we look at your dating history?” Stiles supplied cockily, but was immediately put back in place by Derek’s warning glare. “I’m just saying…”

“Look, I knew her back in high school from before the fire; she was practically part of the family. She can help, I know she can. She did it for me, and she can do it again.” Derek said gravely, and that made Stiles pause and look to Scott, who now looked thoroughly convinced that this was someone it definitely wouldn't hurt to look into as an option.

“She did what for you?” Stiles asked when he finally broke eye contact with Scott.

“She took away the void.” Derek said simply.

Scott turned to Stiles, “I’m going. I’ll have Isaac here within ten. You gonna be good until then?”

Stiles thought about protesting, but then he saw the determined look on Derek’s face that told him if he kept Scott here a moment longer, he wouldn't hesitate to drag the boy through the window by force and stuff him in the trunk. So Stiles gave in, nodding, and watched as Scott and Derek both disappeared beyond the view of his window.

“Bring me back a souvenir!” He called out as an afterthought. He thought he heard someone laughing, but then again, he did that a lot these days.

***

Scott studied the name and address written in sloppy scrawl on the crumpled paper. “Elizabeth Till? Big Easy’s Big and Greasy, Louisiana? You knew this girl?”

Derek was hurdling down the highway at an impressive 105 miles per hour, and if they were passing any state troopers, they seemed to think better of giving chase to anyone who was willing to disrespect the law that blatantly. “I did, yeah. We lost touch after the fire, but she’s the only one I’d trust with Stiles.”

Scott nodded, but his eyes were still narrowed in confusion, “Only one of what? What is she?”

Derek looked torn for a moment before answering, “She’s a witch.”

“A witch?” Scott cried. “Those are real?”

“Says the werewolf…”

“Okay, yeah, but dude, a witch?”

Derek only nodded.

“How’s she gonna help him? How did she help you? Are you sure you can even still trust her?”

Derek seemed to choose to ignore the first two questions and only answered the last, “I guess we’re going to find out, aren't we?”


	2. The White Witch

One day and four hours trapped in a Camaro makes Scott McCall a grumpy boy.

The smell wafting from the diner, however, doesn't.

He sniffed the air deeply and only opened his eyes when the driver’s side door snapped shut sharply. He fell into step beside Derek as they trotted up the dirt path in front of the small diner. It was picturesque; exactly what Scott had always imagined when he’d thought of summer in the Deep South. Sun was streaming through trees overhead, and the fresh air mingled with the smell of Louisiana cooking, which he’d never experienced first-hand, but now found himself dying to try out. A steady stream of people were heading through the open screen doors of the diner, their laughter carrying and echoing around them as they gathered around freshly painted picnic tables surrounded by well-manicured grass. He could make out the sound of friendly chatter within the walls, the frenzied shouting of orders, and the frazzled ramblings of a woman shouting for someone named Big Easy. Scott was already smiling from ear to ear, ready to cash in on the southern hospitality he’d heard so much about.

Trotting up the front stairs with pep in his step, Scott waved jovially when he and Derek got a few appreciative wolf-whistles and a hurried, “Dibs!” from the far corner of the small room. The tables were packed, but that didn't seem to faze anyone. Patrons were just as happy to crowd the bar and the free floor space, holding their burgers and fries in their little red baskets and tuck their beers into their elbows in order to snag a bite. The air was thick in here, and a thin sweat was already starting to build up on his neck, which is why it didn't surprise him to see the drenched red and white baseball tees that the staff was dawning as they wove in between customers, looking rushed but content and never failing to smile at a customer. Scott was dazzled by the smile of a woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties with dark skin and bright eyes, who handed them their menus as she ushered them out of the doorway, telling them to pull up some space where they could find it. Scott was just deciding between Big Easy’s Nice ‘n’ Greasy or the tried and true BBQ Burger when Derek delivered the most devastating news Scott had heard in his life.

“We’re not here to eat.” He’d said gruffly, stashing his menu behind an intricate display of wooden chickens and a pig in a chef’s outfit, holding a sign that said, ‘TRY THE BEEF!’ “We’re here to find Elizabeth and get out of here.”

Indignant didn’t begin to cover Scott’s expression as he gaped at Derek, eyebrows knit together and menu clutched to his chest. “You make me ride 28 hours non-stop through three states without so much as a bathroom break, and now you won’t let me eat?” He had half a mind to Alpha-eye Derek into enjoying a well-balanced, greasy meal.

“The quicker we get her to Stiles, the better, right?” Derek said, not even sparing a glance Scott’s way because he knew he was right, and Scott’s shoulders sunk as he stuffed his menu beside Derek’s behind the pig. He was mournfully reading the pig’s board when a feminine voice cut through the crowd.

“Why, Derek Hale as I live and breathe!” It cried, sounding breathless and overjoyed at the prospect of finding this grump of a man in the middle of this diner, as if fate could not possibly have delivered her a sweeter gift. Scott didn't even have time to find who the voice belonged to before he was getting a face full of deep auburn hair as a body flew into Derek’s, arms winding around his shoulders and legs flailing to catch around his waist. What Scott thought would happen next was that Derek would drop her like a sack of potatoes and brush any trace of affection off of his clothes like it was an actual stain. Instead, he just patted this girl on the back, a smile breaking free from his lips before he could catch it. Scott didn't think he’d ever seen Derek smile so genuinely, or return a hug. Had he ever seen Derek be hugged…at all? He was just beginning to sift through the small memory file he had on ‘Derek + Physical Affection’ when the girl pulled her face from the crook of Derek’s neck and planted a wet kiss on his forehead just above his eyebrows.

That seemed to be the line for Derek, because he shoved her off playfully and took to scrubbing his face free of kisses. It was a shame, Scott was hoping to snap at least one picture to send to the pack, just so they’d know he wasn't lying when he said that Derek Hale was capable of happiness.

“It’s been too long, brother, too long!” The girl said as she stepped back from Derek and composed herself, her bright eyes darting over Derek’s entire being as if hardly being able to believe he was here, in the flesh, in front of her. 

She turned her shining emerald eyes on Scott and her jaw dropped again, like Scott wasn't a complete stranger, but rather yet another long lost brother. “And who do we have here!” She drawled, making grabby hands at Scott before pulling him into a tight hug, not quite as dramatic as Derek’s but just as warm and welcoming. Scott returned it quickly and was surprised to find that her shirt wasn't the same soaked and sweaty mess of her co-workers, but by the looks of her frizzy and wild hair, she’d been serving for hours. As she pulled away, she gripped tight to Scott’s shoulders to inspect him carefully. Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled, and Scott decided that she was pretty in that cute-little-kitten-in-a-blanket kind of way. The hair springing free from her ponytail of frizzled waves framed her small face, the spattering of freckles that began at her temples and fell across the bridge of her nose made her look innocent, and her skin looked as though it was naturally tan, though Scott assumed that came with the territory of living in a near constant state of summer. 

“I’m Scott!” He responded happily, his smile splitting across his face, leaving the girl before him a squealing mess as she pulled him in for another hug.

“Oh Derek, he’s precious! A total keeper, if you ask me. Look at the face, have you ever seen a bigger ball of sunshine!” She spoke quickly and reverently before finally releasing Scott again. “Are you takin’ care of my Der-Bear over there in the Golden State?”

Derek and Scott shared worried glances, Derek’s looking downright terrified, as if Scott was about to kill him in cold blood. After taking a minute to gesture towards one another, shake their heads, and make mumbled statements, Scott finally chocked out, “We’re not a couple, we’re pack. We are a pack. Not just us though, there’s more out there. Not just uh, not just us.”

The girl’s eyebrows shot to her hairline, eyes darting between the two as a smile grew on her lips. “Why are boys always so sensitive? I didn't mean anything by it! Der’s never been one to keep a lot of friends, but I can just tell I like you already Scott, you give me good vibes!” She playfully punched at his shoulder before delivering a gentle hit to the side of his smiling face. “’Sides, you can hardly blame me, look at ya! You’d be a total catch, sweetie.”

Scott thought fleetingly of Kira at home, and smiled wider than he already was.

“So what brings you boys to my neck of the woods? It’s not exactly a hop-skip-and-jump from here to California.” She asked, her eyes lingering on Derek.

Derek’s eyes scanned the room before leaning closer to her, “Zab, we need your help.”

Zab, as Derek had called her, looked alarmed for a moment before her eyes darkened to a shade of jade quicker than Scott could register it happening. She went from chipper to murderous in seconds. “Is it hunters? Derek, are you in danger? Where’s Laura? Cora? Are they safe?”

Scott noticed Derek visibly tense at the mention of his older sister, but he quickly brushed it off. “Clearly we've got some catching up to do, but no, it’s not hunters.” His eyes once again flicked around the bar before adding, “Do you mind if we go somewhere else?”

Zab looked hesitant for a moment before nodding, and turning on her heel before disappearing into the throng of people.

“Zab?” Scott asked in her absence. He thought Stiles got screwed out of a decent name, but this one was coming in a close second.

“Elizabeth Till.” Derek said blandly, eyes still on the spot where she’d disappeared. “Five hundred year old witch, if you’d believe it.”

Which Scott didn’t. “You’re joking.”

“He’s not.” Came Elizabeth’s sweet voice as she broke through the crowd once again. “I’m Elizabeth, sorry for not tellin’ you so myself. You can call me that, or Liza, Liz, Elle, Beth, Zab, Eli, hell, call me whatever you'd like, so long as it's not Lizzy.” She said all while maintaining her bright smile. “As for the age, you can check the birth certificate, might be a bit tough to make out ‘cause, y’know, 500 years old.” She added with a shrug. She turned back towards Derek and her smile fell the slightest bit. “Big Easy’s gonna need me for the next hour, big lunch rush. If you don’t mind, you boys can hang around, chow down if you’d like. It’s on the house for my boys!” She said optimistically.

“Absolutely!” Scott said, before Derek could say something stupid, like ‘No.’, and the look on Derek’s face told Scott he’d been planning on doing just that.

Elizabeth gave Scott a wink as she eased herself back into the flow of waiters and waitresses bustling about the ever growing crowd. Scott leaned against the wall, now that he knew they’d be sticking around. He turned an eye on Derek, who seemed just as content to stand there looking uncomfortable, wearing all black in the depths of summer. He laughed softly and shook his head, remembering the fond memory of that version of Derek Hale which actually expressed joy.

“What’s funny?” Derek asked tersely.

“You are!” Scott said, as if it was obvious. “You greet that girl like she’s the sun in the sky, and then brood every moment after.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re weird, dude.”

“I thought we already knew that much about me.”

“We did.”

“So why does it surprise you now?”

“Because I just saw that you’re not the android we all thought you were.”

Derek sneered at that for a moment before pulling out his phone, only to put it back in his pocket a moment later. “No word from the pack yet?”

“You mean other than Stiles begging me to bring back leftovers?” Scott asked, his lips in a tight smile, remembering that they were making this trip to salvage the pieces of his friend’s mind that would never be the same. “No.”

“At least that means the apocalypse hasn't started without us.” Derek said dryly.

“Is that a real thing?” Scott said in disbelief. At this point in the game, nothing would surprise him.

Derek scoffed and rolled his eyes, deeming the question unworthy of an answer.

***

When the burgers came around, the crowd in the small diner had thinned considerably to the point where Scott and Derek were able to take a table, and Scott was finally starting to see what the place looked like behind the bustling bodies. The walls were a warm yellow, covered floor to ceiling in memorabilia and trinkets of every decade since the 1960’s. Scott thinks he spots a poster from one of blink-182’s earlier tours and smiles a little.

“That was my addition.” Elizabeth says warmly as she catches him staring at it. “I swore up and down the street I was their biggest fan. Still do, matter of fact, but something tells me you’re about to give me a run for my money.” She says challengingly, handing straws to both Derek and Scott before setting down two glasses of water and their burgers—bacon and cheddar for Derek and BBQ for Scott. “Still remember Der’s order from back in the day. As for you, sweetie, I just took a guess. I have a feelin’ I got it right though.” She said with a chuckle as she watched Scott shove at least half of the burger into his face the moment it touched the table. “How about I bring around some napkins, yeah?” she said before turning away from them.

“She’s a godsend, dude. Marry that girl.” Scott said around a mound of beef, a glob of BBQ sauce sliding unattractively down the side of his mouth.

“First of all, that’s disgusting.” Derek said, pointing to said glob, “Second of all, she’s a sister to me. I’d sooner marry you.” Scott pulled a face at that, “And third, she’s not into guys.”

Scott’s eyebrows rose up his forehead, “Oh, that’s cool. Right on. We could introduce her to—“

“Nope.” Derek cut him off, “Not interested.”

“Oh, is she already seeing someone?”

“Nope.”

Scott’s face contorted, “I’m confused.”

“Aren't you always?”

“So she’s…”

“Asexual.” The girl herself said as she set a stack of napkins on the table, taking one herself and dipping it in Scott’s water before wiping the sauce off of his face.  
“Oh, god. Total mom move!” Scott said, blushing high in his cheeks. Girls tended to mother him, not that he minded, but it was a bit embarrassing when done in front of Derek, though, who was smirking from across the table.

“Oh, don’t you fuss about Derek. He was a mama’s boy, too.” She said, sadness to her voice that Scott understood, and she set her hand on Derek’s shoulder. “Not to mention all the times I had to use some mom moves on him, like when he let a red sock get in his laundry, and—“

“We agreed!” Derek snapped, looking ominously up at her, though she was paying him no attention, head thrown back in a musical laugh.

“Chill, chill, you big baby. It happens to the best of us, and you look dashing in pink, it really brings out the hate in your eyes!” She said sweetly, pinching a cheek between nails painted a deep maroon.

Scott never wished for a camera so bad in all his life, Isaac and Stiles would never take his word for this.

“Anyways!” She huffed after removing her hand from Derek’s cheek. “I’m off as soon as y’all’re done with your burgers! Ready when you are.” She peeled her apron from her body as she said so, leaving to hang it behind the bar.

“Don’t even think about it.” Scott warned when it looked like Derek was ready to eat the entire basket if it meant getting out of the diner right now. “We’re sitting. We’re enjoying each other’s company. And we’re not leaving here until I've eaten every crumb out of this basket.”

“Enjoying each other’s company? Us?” Derek said, and although he may have had him there, Scott wasn't relenting.

A chair slid up to their table and it was promptly filled by Elizabeth, who was slipping off her shoes and rubbing her tired feet. “So, Scotty, you’re a were—“  
“Zab!” Derek reprimanded her.

“What?!” She cried, rolling her eyes at the warning look on Derek’s face. “Oh Der, lighten up. Look around you; do you see anyone paying attention to us here? And if it’s werewolves you’re worried about, don’t you think you’d’ve sensed ‘em by now?”

Logic didn't dampen Derek’s temper though, and he continued to glare at her even after she’d turned back to Scott. “So, are you, you know…”

“Yeah, I turned in my sophomore year. Derek’s uncle caught me out in the woods one night.” Scott explained, carefully glossing over the reason why he was in the woods in the first place.

“Peter? That doesn't sound like him, to bite teenagers…” She said thoughtfully, turning back to Derek, “And I thought Laura was the Alpha? What did I miss here?”

“A lot.” He said before popping fries in his mouth.

Elizabeth seemed content with that answer, for the time being, and so she scooped a few fries for herself off of Derek’s plate, and when he raised an eyebrow to her, she said, “Remember the spaghetti.” cryptically as she stuffed her mouth.

“Oh, we’re still milking that, are we?” Derek said, his eyes narrowing. Scott’s heart ached as he remembered the way Stiles had said something hauntingly similar not all that long ago.

“Yes, we are.” She smiled tightly as she continued to chew her fries. Scott smiled in the way it reminded him of Isaac. A day away from home and he was already missing his friends. Pack mentality was killer when you weren't within running distance of each other; especially after all they’d been through.

“So why’d you have to come to me? 1900 miles is nothing to sneeze at, Der, and I know there’re people like me right up in Washington…” Elizabeth asked, pulling both feet up to sit cross-legged in her chair. “Why not ask one of them?”

Derek took a moment to pause with his drink half way to his mouth, his eyes far away for a moment before coming back to the present, “I needed someone I knew I could trust.”  
Elizabeth almost looked surprised by the admission, hell, Scott knew he was. There were about 100 words and phrases the pack assumed Derek Hale never used: “Have a nice day!”, “What a great idea, Stiles!”, and “I trust you.” were chief among them, and to hear Derek say one so casually was reason for alarm. When her expression relaxed, a small smile tugged at her lips. “Good to know you still trust me after all these years.”

“How long’s it been?” Scott asked, not entirely meaning to let the question slip out.

Derek and Elizabeth exchanged a look before Derek muttered, with no inflection, “Eight years.”

“Give or take.” Elizabeth added softly.

Scott’s eyes widened a bit, his eyes locked on Derek, who was paying no attention to him, but rather was having a stare-down with his fries. Elizabeth seemed great, but a lot can change in eight years. He just hoped Derek knew what he was doing.

“Well alright.” Scott said finally, interrupting the awkward silence that had grown.

“Well, Scotty, tell me about you, sweetheart! You go to Beacon Hills High?” After nodding his head in the affirmative, Elizabeth let out a gleeful laugh, “Oh, tell me, is that ol’ bastard Finstock still kickin’ around that school?”

Scott laughed and recounted the countless run ins he’d had with the infamous Finstock, and after that he’d continued to tell her all about his life since the bite, trying to gloss over the less than perfect moments: Laura’s murder, Peter’s murder, the kanima, the Alphas, and most recently, the Nogitsune. It didn't leave him with a lot, but Elizabeth seemed content anyway. Scott was under the distinct notion that she didn't need a lot to make her happy.

“Oh, it’s too bad I won’t get to meet your friends! They sound like darlings!” She sighed, and she truly sounded like she was mournful. Derek and Scott exchanged pointed glances, which she caught on to immediately. “What?” She asked skeptically.

“We’d need you to come back with us.” Derek said, placing both elbows on the table, fixing her with a serious look, “Not sure for how long yet.”

He might as well have told her he was a drag queen. Her mouth hung open for so long that Scott was ready to try to toss a fry in it, and when she finally spoke, she sounded as breathless as she had when she’d first seen Derek. “You want me to just pack up and go? Derek, I do have a life here, you know!” She gestured around the diner, as if this place in itself was reason enough to stay. “I got friends, a job, my coven still needs me Derek, they’re thinking of having me train some of the younger kids now! I can’t give that up because my old friend from high school shows up out of the blue tellin’ me to come to California.”

Derek looked as though he’d assumed as much, which is why when he fixed her with a meaningful gaze, Scott assumed the words, “We need a White Witch.”, meant a hell of a lot more than he’d let on. Elizabeth’s jaw dropped and she was out of the chair in a second, rushing behind the bar and shouting for Big Easy.

“White Witch, Derek? You just said we needed _a_ witch…” Scott said, “Is there a difference?”

“Wouldn't be here if there wasn't.” Derek said, spinning his cup on the spot.

Elizabeth was back at the table in a flurry of purses and sweatshirts, one of which knocked Scott right in the face as she pushed her chair back to its rightful table. “You’re gonna explain this to me in great detail, Derek Arthur Hale.” Scott mouthed the word ‘Arthur’ to himself, barely suppressing a chuckle. “You are going to drive me to my house to get my things, and you are going to spare me no expense when you tell me exactly why you need that kinda mojo.” She sounded equal parts livid and concerned, which is why both Scott and Derek scrambled to follow her out the screen doors of the diner.

“Is White Witch some kind of racist witch slur, or something? What’s setting her off right now?” Scott asked as he pushed his chair in and followed after Derek.

“You only need them in times of strife, or chaos, or—“

“Grief.” Scott finished darkly, remembering the Nogitsune’s mantra. “So she knows it was a demon?”

“No, but she knows that someone’s in terrible pain.”

She was sitting on the hood of the Camaro already, her hair free of its elastic and now moving wildly around her in the breeze. When Scott moved to open the door to the front seat, she’d laughed softly and slipped from her perch to bump him aside with her hip. “Not in this life.”

On the way to Elizabeth’s house, Scott and Derek recounted every terrible, twisted detail of the Nogitsune’s possession of Stiles’s body, and by the time they’d reached her house, she could hardly wait for the car to stop before she leapt from her seat and flew through the entry way, adding “Feel free the check out the place!” as an afterthought over her shoulder.

Derek and Scott elected to wait in the car, but couldn't help but overhear Elizabeth bounding about the house, cursing as she tripped over or bumped into various objects. She was reminding him more of Stiles with every passing minute, and when she stumbled out of the house weighed down by two duffle bags and a backpack; he realized that right down to the way they dressed, the two could be soul mates. She’d thrown on Daisy Dukes and a worn pair of combat boots, haphazardly adding on a horrid green tank top that read “Mount and Dew Me” that Derek laughed derisively at. She had also put in a septum piercing that made her look intimidating in the way that putting a devil costume on a kitten made it look scary.

Waddling under the weight of her bags, she made it to the car and unceremoniously stuffed the three bags in the back with Scott, who now sat squashed against the passenger’s side of the car, muttering about how “Girls pack too much.”

Elizabeth shifted in her seat and fixed him with a stare, “I’ll have you know, those duffel bags are filled mostly with magical objects that I could use to ruin your young life. I’m used to traveling light, kiddo.”

Derek smirked at Scott in the review mirror, basking in his embarrassment. It was short lived, however, because Elizabeth shifted her focus to him the moment she saw what he was doing.

“So, what have I missed in The Life and Times of Derek Hale? Any new hobbies, pets, lucky men or women I should be warned about?” She asked, wiggling a finger against his ribs and earning a harsh glare in return. “I’m telling ya, you should really reach out to that Parish kid we used to go to school with, the one who asked you to the winter formal? Granted, his timing was awful, but he deserves a chance. I wonder if he’s still around Beacon Hills…”

Derek’s face was bright red.

Scott’s was approaching the surface of the sun.

Not that it was his business what Derek was into or who he slept with, it had just never crossed his mind as a possibility that Derek swung for both teams. Upon reevaluation, maybe Derek’s upkeep of his eyebrows was a little suspicious, but Scott had always assumed he liked to keep them as intimidating as possible. Not that pristine eyebrows had anything to do with sexuality, but Scott was sort of grabbing at straws here, trying to figure out where the signs were, and how he could’ve missed a bomb this big.  
Derek looked as if he had a bomb strapped to his chest.

“If you tell Isaac, or Lydia, or, oh God forbid, Peter about anything you just heard, Scott, so help me God I will—“ 

“Don’t you dare speak to Scott that way!” Elizabeth reprimanded, “’S not his fault you can’t man up and get over the fact that since I don’t swing, you picked up the bat I wasn't using.” She sat back comfortably in her seat, “’Course your luck with girls is such shit, I’m surprised you haven’t given up all together.”

Derek growled.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is it new information that your track record with women is one train wreck after another? Need I remind you of…? Lord what was her name…”

“Jennifer?” Scott supplied helpfully, the wide smile on his face when Derek’s murderous stare met his in the mirror let him know that he knew exactly what he just did.

“Jennifer?” Her head snapped to Derek. “Who on this beautiful green Earth is Jennifer?”

“Don’t make me tell you or so help me God, I will crash this car.”

“Sounds like another winner to me, Der.” Elizabeth said smugly, but ceased any and all questioning pertaining to Derek’s love life, and focused on the much more optimistic occurrences blooming in Scott’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so I just wanted to introduce Elizabeth's character with this chapter. I'm not really sure how frequently I'll be posting these, but I figured these two chapters should go up so you'd get a feel for where I'm going with her.
> 
> I guess I really wanted to give Derek someone he could trust without falling into bed with, and I see Elizabeth as being like another sibling to him.
> 
> Again, any mistakes are mine, and comments and all that are welcome!


	3. It's Inside of You

The ride back to Beacon Hills felt blissfully shorter now that Scott had someone to talk to that used more than grunts and sparse words to communicate with. Elizabeth spent most of the ride twisted in her seat to face Scott, speaking quickly and animatedly about her time with Derek, letting slip more than a few embarrassing stories that Derek would growl at, but she’d just blow him off with a wave of her hand, and for some reason it would only make Derek laugh.

Scott stealthily took pictures every time one of those smiles appeared, and they were quickly dispersed about the pack VIA mass text, and the responses were all about the same:

_**LYDIA:** Is this the apocalypse?_

_**ISAAC:** I don’t think I’ve ever seen his teeth without fangs..._

_**JERKSON:** Photoshop._

_**STILES:** I’m saving this for future reference._

_**ERICA:** No fucking way._

_**BOYD:** Is he high?_

_**KIRA:** I'm making a scrapbook._

Scott laughed at every incoming message, and showed Elizabeth what he was laughing at when she asked, and then she began to laugh, too. “I can’t wait to meet them! Do you think they’ll like me? When can I meet them?”

Scott began to assure her that the pack would be open to the idea of someone coming in for a while, but Derek cut across him. “Elizabeth, you’re not here to make friends. You’re here to fix Stiles.”

The tension was immediate.

“Derek, you can’t expect to drop into my life after all these years and expect me to be at your disposal. I’m doing you a favor. I don’t know how long it’s gonna take to fix this boy’s mind, and you’re not gonna keep me locked away to be used when you need me. If the pack likes me, I’m not going to push ‘em away because you said I couldn’t make friends.” She snapped, and Scott was under the distinct impression that she was used to putting Derek in his place.

“Zab, I don’t want you getting too close to this.” Derek said in a softer tone.

“Getting too close was never my problem, Derek, not knowing how to control my power was.” She said quickly, “I’m better now.”

Derek still looked uneasy. “Just don’t want you to get hurt.” He said quietly, in a voice so tender Scott had a hard time believing it was his.

“I’m stronger than you know.” She replied softly, and like that it was settled. Elizabeth turned back to Scott with her usual vigor and asked him again if he thought the pack would like her.

Scott was still so amazed that Derek had a genuine friend that he hesitated in answering her, which she took to be a bad sign if the falling smile on her face was any indication.  
“It’s alright, I understand if they’re a bit wary of me. Being a newcomer in a pack is always risky business.” She said quietly, deflating before Scott’s eyes.

“No, no! It’s not that at all! In fact, I think you and Stiles will get along great! Kira, too, but then again, Kira likes everyone. No worries there.” Scott protested, and he watched Elizabeth brighten up again. “Isaac, too, I bet! And Erica. Isaac and Erica are gonna love you, so long as you keep telling stories about Derek."

“Don’t encourage her.” Derek muttered darkly.

“Jackson and Boyd keep to themselves, and Jackson’s actually a bit of a jerk, so they’ll probably take some time to warm up to you, in fact, I’m still trying to warm up to Jackson…” Scott added thoughtfully. “And then there’s Lydia. She’s a loose cannon. She’ll either like you or she won’t. There’s no telling.”

Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully, seeming complacent with the answer. “Well, it’s like Derek said. I don’t really need to make friends while I’m here, but it couldn’t hurt.” She shrugged, and with a new light in her eyes she leaned over the head rest and wrapped her arms around the back of her chair, focusing on Scott. “So tell me about Stiles! From before the Newjit—Nowkit—whatever got to him.”

Scott laughed and tried to think of Stiles’s Greatest Hits. “Well, there was this one time, with a swing set…” and Scott went into great detail about the time that Stiles got his tongue stuck to the swing set, which made Elizabeth laugh herself to tears, and even Derek let out a chuckle when Scott added that Stiles still thinks that it was Scott’s idea to lick the swing set in the first place. He told her about Biles Bilinski, and how Stiles had gone so far as to write ‘Biles’ on every paper they had for Finstock’s class. He even included their mishap at the gay club, and how Stiles had adamantly tried to convince his father that he could be gay, and that his father’s only argument against that was the fact that Stiles dressed like shit. The more stories Scott told, the more he missed his best friend, and more he hoped that the girl heaving with laughter before him could return his best friend to him.

“Oh god, oh Lord, I need to meet this boy! Every moment that I’m not with him is an absolute waste!” Elizabeth cried as she wipes tears from the corners of her eyes.

“Well, we’re almost there. Scott, why don’t you give Stiles a call and tell him to meet us at the loft? Peter’ll let him in.” Derek said.

“Peter’s still living with you? Why am I not surprised?” Elizabeth said with a smirk.

Scott did as he was told, and got the okay from Stiles that told him he was headed to Derek’s now.

The sooner this was all over with, Scott thought, the better.

***

Upon seeing Stiles, Elizabeth froze in the doorway, Scott and Derek standing tense at her sides, their eyes darting between the pair.

“I know these good looks can be bewildering, but if we could at least do some intro—“

“It’s inside of you.” Elizabeth whispered, with her eyes wide open and staring unwaveringly at Stiles.

Stiles blanched completely, the smile dropping from his face as he staggered on the spot. He looked ready to wretch. “What’s inside of me?” He slurred, leaning heavily on Scott’s shoulder as his friend wrapped a supportive arm around him. “It can’t be—we killed it. He’s gone, he’s gone!”

Derek’s hand was tight around her wrist as he jerked her right into his face, “What the hell’s inside him, Elizabeth?” His claws were beginning to dig into her skin, bringing her out of her temporary daze.

She looked quickly about the room at the three terrified faces in front of her before shaking her head quickly, waving her arms as if to bat the thought of the Nogitsune out of the air. “No, no no, no. It’s nothing like that. The boy’s got magic in him.” She said quickly.

“Magic?” Stiles said simply, his shoulders drooping as the tension released from his body. “What like Harry Potter?"

“If you want to see it like that, sure.” Elizabeth said, “I could sense it on you as soon as I saw you, did you really not know?”

Stiles performed a visual scan of himself, as if the words ‘YOU’RE A WIZARD, DUMBASS’ were tattooed somewhere on his skin that he hadn't seen yet. “Um…yup, yeah, I don’t think so. Pretty sure you’re the first to drop the news. It’s a little late for the Hogwarts letter, though, don’t you think?”

“It’s never too late to start, Stiles. I could teach you some beginner’s magic, if you want! I could be like a mentor; does that sound like something you want?” She asked hopefully, taking a few steps toward Stiles before being stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“You just got in. Let’s save it for later, yeah?” Derek said, and it sounded a lot more like an order than a question, so Elizabeth picked up her bags where she dropped them and headed toward Derek’s bed in the far corner of the loft. “You got it Boss Man.” She said over the shoulder, her exasperation toward Derek’s demands evident in her voice.

“Where do you think you’re going? You’re sleeping on the sofa! There’s a pull out couch in there, or something.” Derek said, watching her retreating back as it moved ever closer to his bed. His eyebrows knit together at the sound of her answering laughter. “I’m serious!”

“Oh honey, I’m sure you are.” Elizabeth said as she dropped her bags on Derek’s bed anyway. “Tell you what; you can fight me for it.”

Derek growled at that, refusing to answer the challenge.

“Oh, that’s right. What’s your record against me, 0 and 9?” She said with a smirk, bouncing on her heels at the look of disdain on Derek’s face.

“Isn’t that his record with everyone?” Stiles added, which earned a delighted cackle from Elizabeth, accompanied by an added, “Oh, he’s feisty!” and a serious glare from Derek that nearly wiped the smile completely off the boy’s face.

“Derek Arthur Hale, you quit glaring or your pretty face is gonna get stuck like that!” Elizabeth called from the make shift bedroom as she unpacked her clothes onto Derek’s queen sized mattress, muttering “Don’t know how many times I’ll have to tell him that,” under her breath.

“Arthur, eh?” Stiles chided.

“Need I remind you of your name?” Derek retorted with a victorious smirk.

Stiles scoffed, “You know, maybe I’ll take those lessons and give you the piping hot slice of Humble Pie you deserve.”

“Right on, kid.” Elizabeth called.

“Whose side are you on?” Derek cried incredulously.

“The winning one,” she said haughtily as she sauntered back toward them, her clothes now lying in piles across Derek’s bed amongst magical paraphernalia. “And by the sounds of it Der, that’s not yours…” She said, delivering a playful punch to his shoulder as she passed him. “Come on, you.” She said with her focus now on Stiles as she reached out and took his forearm, dragging him toward the door, ignoring his flailing and sputtering.

“What—where? Scott? Derek? Guys, where’s she taking me?” Stiles asked, stumbling after Elizabeth as she climbed the steps.

“Beats me.” Scott said with an amused smile. “But have fun where ever you end up.”

“Where are you taking him?” Derek asked as he watched them turn the corner and disappear behind the wall.

“We need to bond if we want the healing process to work, Der. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him for you! We’ll call if we need ya!” She shouted through the concrete, her voice fading as she moved further down the hall. “Don’t wait up!”

Derek just scoffed and turned to look at his bed, whining at the sight of his safe haven being taken over by bras and t-shirts and spell books.

***

Stiles was tense as they wandered around Beacon Hills. Elizabeth decided she’d rather stroll aimlessly until they found something to do rather than ride around in the Jeep. He didn't begrudge her for that, and he could admit that the fresh air felt good on his skin after being cooped up in his house for so long, but the feeling of being alone with a complete stranger still set him on edge. Elizabeth wasn't doing anything wrong; in fact she wasn't doing much at all: just smiling serenely and directing which way they were walking, but Stiles still wished Scott or Derek had come along rather than leave him alone. Derek must really trust this girl, though, so Stiles decided to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“So…The White Witch, are we talking Stevie Nicks or are we talking The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe here?” Stiles asked, speaking for the first time since they’d left the loft nearly half an hour ago.

Elizabeth smiled softly as she kept walking, “Never heard that one before, or anything.”

Stiles waited for a response.

“Well, White Witches are a special brand of witch.” Elizabeth began, turning to face him. “We’re healers of the mind, because the mind and the balance of emotion are the most important parts of witchcraft. When one White Witch dies, the power shifts to another.”

“Alright.” Stiles nodded slowly in understanding. “So, how’re you gonna fix me, Doc?”

“Well, first off, I’m gonna get to know you. Intimately. Better than Scott. Better than your parents. You’re gonna have to tell me everything, to the point where I could write the story of your life, you got me?” Elizabeth spoke clearly and only continued after getting another nod from the boy beside her. “Then, once I have a clear idea of who you are I’m gonna start siphoning off the pain. It’ll have to be done in installments, it’s dangerous for a White Witch to endure too much of a negative emotion all at once, sometimes it’s deadly.”

“What do you mean? When Scott takes pain, it stings him for a few minutes, but he’s alright…”

“When a White Witch pulls an emotion, its intensity’s magnified depending on how repressed the emotions are. I've made that mistake before and…”

“You got fried?”

“I've never lost control like that, before.” She said thoughtfully.

“Performance issues, totally common.”

“Do you speak from experience?” Elizabeth shot back without missing a beat.

Stiles’s eyebrows shot up his face, and after a moment of surprise he actually felt a chuckle bubble out of his throat. “God, how someone like you used to be best friends with Derek Hale completely baffles me.”

“Der-Bear? Don’t let the eyebrows fool you, that boy’s a marshmallow inside.” Elizabeth said fondly, “In fact, if you knew him before the fire, I bet you two would be thick as thieves.”

Stiles smiled softly, almost sadly at that. “Yeah, well…that’s too bad. Guess I’ll just have to deal with ol’ Sourwolf instead, huh?”

Elizabeth laughed softly, but watched him carefully, noticing the sadness within Stiles that looked a lot like longing from where she was standing. Dropping the topic of Derek, she asked about his friendship with Scott, and that snowballed into hearing about his ten year crush on one Lydia Martin, and his love-hate relationship with lacrosse, and how he’s been trying to get his father to pick up a healthier diet.

“It’s the doughnuts that are gonna kill him.” Stiles concluded. “He might be the first ever sheriff that would sooner be bribed with doughnuts than money.” He added thoughtfully.

“Sheriff? Sheriff Stilinski is your dad?” She asked excitedly, stepping in front of him and halting their progress.

“Yeah, you know him?” Stiles asked.

Elizabeth laughed richly, a delighted smile playing on her lips as her eyes slipped out of focus, “’Course I know him. Your dad’s one of the greatest men I’ve ever met. And don’t you worry your pretty head about the doughnuts, when I used to work for him, he’d always drop his doughnut on my desk, but every time he did it he was swearing that he was gonna get you back. Something about spinach for dinner for the rest of your life?”

“Rest of my life, yeah right, more like two days before he couldn't take it anymore.”

She was laughing again, but then she remembered something she’d learned from her tribe not too many years ago. “Wait…Stilinski…”

“That’s the name, don’t wear it—“

“Claudia.”

The smile that Stiles had been wearing faltered. “My mother.”

“The White Witch!”

“No, you’re the White Witch…”

“But I’m not the first!” Elizabeth said excitedly, “That’s where you must get your magic from; it came from your mother’s side. She was the White Witch before me, but when she died—oh. Stiles, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot.” She reached to take Stiles hand, forgetting in her excitement the pain it must have caused for Stiles to remember her.

“Hey, don’t worry about it! My mom was a White Witch, that’s awesome. Part of her is in me, and that’s cool.” Stiles said with a softer smile, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand.

Elizabeth apologized a few more times, just to fill the silence, before offering to take Stiles anywhere he wanted to go.

After spending weeks locked in his room, the town of Beacon Hills suddenly seemed overwhelmingly large, filled with endless possibilities.

“You know, I think that new Marvel movie’s out right now?” Stiles asked. It seemed simple enough. Not a lot of physical excursion involved in movie watching, and it didn't involve a lot of talking, and although Elizabeth seemed great so far, Stiles was pretty spent on conversation.

“Oh, I am so down. Let’s go!”

***

He should have known it wouldn't have gone well.

One explosion into the movie and Stiles was shaking like a leaf, jerking in his seat as he remembered moving through the remains of his father’s office mere minutes after the bomb had gone off: The bomb that had killed men and women that his father worked with, the bomb that went off mere feet away from Derek and Chris Argent, a bomb that could have killed Chris had Derek not placed himself between the man and the blast. A bomb that left Derek aching and bleeding and Stiles hadn't even stopped to ask if he was alright, even though he was just on the other side of the wall…

Suddenly he wasn't immersed in darkness anymore, and he was being dragged into a blinding white light. Oh God, was this dying?

A sharp slap to the face and a dousing of ice cold water told him that it was, in fact, not death that was looming over him, but rather Elizabeth with eyes wide as saucers, holding him against the tiled walls of the men’s bathroom with one arm, the other gripping the water bottle she’d bought from the concession stand earlier. Most of the water was on Stiles’s face, but she offered him the rest as she relaxed her grip on him, allowing him to step away from the wall on shaky legs. He drank like a dying man, not stopping until the bottle was empty in his shaking hands. He nodded his thanks but kept his gaze on the ground, sheepishly shifting from foot to foot.

“Stiles?” Elizabeth said softly.

He only shook his head, not wishing to look at her. This was a terrible idea. He’d just have to tell Derek thanks, but no thanks when they got back to the loft. He was damaged goods, and no amount of magic was gonna fix that.

“Stiles.” She said more forcefully. “Look at me.”

He shook his head again, fingers flexing in agitation. Couldn't she see he was a lost cause?

Warm hands closed around his forearm, and the gesture was so sudden that he flinched away, but her grip didn't change, it was just a steady, comforting hand on his arm and eventually Stiles relaxed, his eyes slowly flicking to meet Elizabeth’s, calmer now than what they’d been a minute ago.

“I need you to trust me, just for a minute. Can you do that Stiles? Can you trust me?” She asked softly, and the look in her eyes was so open, so honest, so utterly caring that Stiles was nodding without really thinking, and suddenly Elizabeth’s eyes faded into a luminescent white color, and Stiles would have the good sense to be frightened if he wasn't suddenly feeling marginally lighter in his chest. His mouth worked noiselessly as he watched Elizabeth’s hand emit a fragile ivory glow where it rested on his forearm. He watched as the light grew stronger and seeped into her tan skin, moving in waves that went on for a few minutes before subsiding completely, and with a sudden gasp she tore her hand from his arm, stumbling back before catching herself on the porcelain of the sink behind her.

Stiles was still unsure of exactly what just happened, all he knew was that suddenly he was feeling lighter than he had since before he, Scott, and Allison had taken that impromptu ice bath back at Deaton’s. He held his forearm up to his eyes for closer inspection, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary save for the light outline of Elizabeth’s hand. He wasn’t cured by any stretch of the imagination, but it was one hell of a start.

His eyes flickered to the girl who stood gripping the sink like it was her only lifeline while adrift at sea. Stiles took tentative steps toward her before placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flickered open and they seemed duller, a deep forest green that was so sad compared to the bright green pastures that he was used to seeing. “Elizabeth…what…”

“Your regret, it was so strong. I barely even breached the surface of it.” She muttered quietly, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to string words together. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more…”

“More?” Stiles asked, “Elizabeth, this is great. I feel it, I feel the difference. It’s small, but it’s there. It worked!” He said, slowly getting more excited. This was the first glimmer of hope he’d experienced in so long…

Elizabeth smiled weakly, “Imagine what I can do once I get inside that head of yours.”

Stiles weighed the pros and cons of this briefly for a moment before deciding, “The door’s wide open for you. What’s mine is yours.” Stiles said, and he meant it. 

Elizabeth nodded her understanding before spinning on the spot and retching over the sink. Stiles allowed himself to be horrified for a moment before pulling her hair into a gentle knot at the base of her skull. “Oh, God, Liz, did I do this?”

Elizabeth shook her head as she spit a few times before turning the sink on to let it run. Righting herself on trembling legs, she looked to Stiles with tired eyes. “It’s not you, sweetheart. It’s my bad judgment. I was the same way with Derek. Couldn't stand to see him in pain, so I took on more than I was ready for. Our bond just needs some work, and then this will be easier.” She said quietly, rubbing Stiles’s upper arm to soothe his worries. “I’m tougher than this, usually.”

“I believe it. You need tough skin to be a friend of Derek’s.” Stiles said, and Elizabeth laughed, and so Stiles laughed with her because he felt like he finally could. He’d missed laughing.

"Please don't tell Derek. He won't let me help if he knows." Elizabeth said miserably. "I want to help you, Stiles."

Stiles promised not to tell, so long as Elizabeth promised not to tell anyone about his meltdown. They both swore each other to secrecy and decided to return to the loft.

Stiles even had a pep in his step as he walked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone reading this, and once again, comments and criticisms are welcomed!
> 
> I wanted Elizabeth and Stiles to get to know each other a little bit in this chapter, but to show Stiles's skepticism of the whole thing. It was important that he didn't immediately jump into this without reason, I didn't want him to just blindly trust this girl no matter who she knew before. I also wanted to work on the relationships between Elizabeth and Scott, as well as the relationship between Scott and Derek.
> 
> Any mistakes are my own, and like I said, feel free to share any thoughts!


	4. Meet the Pack

“So, so then I say, ‘Guess she heard her killer coming!’ Oh—“

She and Stiles returned from the movie theater to find everyone assembled in Derek’s loft, and all heads turned to them as soon as the door had slid open.

Peter gave a delighted bark of laughter, “I’ll be damned, no one’s dropped a house on you yet?”

Elizabeth smirked as she strutted into the room, “Peter, I see old age hit you like a truck.”

Peter rounded the table he’d been standing behind in order to give her a hug. “Good to see you, kiddo.”

“You too, old man.”

Peter released her with a chuckle, and from behind him came Lydia, who appraised her from head to toe slowly, cataloging every detail in that beautiful brain of hers. 

After a few more moments of appraisal, Lydia, too, introduced herself. “Lydia Martin, resident banshee.” She stated, and was more than confused when Elizabeth gasped and began circling her like a vulture. “And you’re being weird right now…”

“Sorry, I've just never met a banshee before. Born or made?” Elizabeth asked, coming to a stop in front of Lydia once again.

“Made.” She replied simply, and gave a surprised, “Oop!”, when she was also swept into a hug. “Alright, that’s good. Bonding done.” She said, lightly tapping Elizabeth’s shoulder.

“Sorry about her, she’s not very affectionate.” Stiles explained, stepping up beside Elizabeth.

“Oh, that’s alright. Derek wasn’t much of a hugger either, but I broke him down eventually.” She gave a wink to the man in question, who only huffed indignantly in response. 

Derek may have been miserable, but the two people who approached her next looked as though Christmas had come early.

“If you knew Derek in high school, that means you must know all sorts of embarrassing stories about him, right?” A curvaceous blond with blood red lips asked gleefully, joining Lydia in front of Elizabeth. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m dying to hear some.”

“You’re definitely not alone.” Came a smooth voice from a face that Elizabeth decided looked like it was the love child between a slab of marble and a cherub. Angel-face and his friend introduced themselves as Isaac and Erica, and Elizabeth was under the immediate impression that the devious duo was the closest thing Derek had to younger siblings.

“I’ve got everything from embarrassing to mortifying. What do you wanna hear first?” Elizabeth said with a smirk, and Derek’s snarl from behind his friends’ backs told her just how much Derek was regretting bringing her here in the first place.

“Elizabeth Till, huh?” A boy who looked like he’d sprung from an Abercrombie ad said with his phone in his hand and some sort of article pulled up on the screen. He sauntered into the space beside Lydia and quirked an eyebrow at the witch. “Resident of Louisiana?”

“You got it!” She said brightly.

“Right, right.” Her continued, and he turned his phone so it shone in Elizabeth’s face, and she read the headline that was hanging in front of her: **‘TILL CHARGED WITH MURDER, WILL SPEND LIFE IN PRISON’**. “Wanna explain that one real quick, Sabrina?”

Elizabeth’s eyes darted past the phone to his smug face. Elizabeth had an immediate distaste for his arrogance, and her guard was immediately up.

Lydia took the phone from his hand and began to read the article. “The last we heard of Miss Till, 18, she was on trial for a litany of crimes including assault with a deadly weapon, breaking and entering, arson, theft, and attempted murder. That was in 2009, now 2013, Till is back before the judge and being slammed with a life sentence for the brutal killings of thirteen random victims.’ And you think you’re getting anywhere near Stiles’s mind?” She said venomously, already reaching for Stiles, who was still standing at Elizabeth’s side.

Abercrombie took his phone back, “That’s not all. You were running with those psycho brothers from Kansas. There’s pictures of you with them at five different places! How do you explain that?”

Elizabeth reached out a took the phone from his hand, flipping through the five aforementioned pictures showing her at a gas station and several diners with two tall men, one with shoulder length brown hair and the other with an overgrown crew cut, wearing put-upon expressions and well-loved flannels. She laughed nervously before handing the phone back to its owner, whose smug face was shining back at her as if he’d just cracked the da Vinci code. 

“There’s a really good explanation for all of this, really.” She said, her hands held up defensively as ten sets of eyes looked at her wearily, Derek included.

“Get to explaining.” He said gruffly.

“There was a shape shifter in Louisiana back in oh-nine.” She began, and was cut off by Abercrombie’s snort and, “Of course there was a shifter.” 

She eyed him sharply before continuing. 

“Real nasty son of a bitch and it took a real liking to me and my powers. So naturally, he clung to my body for a good long while before I finally chased him out of state, but he left me in a real mess. I knew I’d never be able to fight the case, the evidence was flawless, I mean, it was my body, after all! I stood the trial and took the punishment. 

“From 2009 to 2011, I was in prison serving time for what he’d done. When I got out, I went back to my old life. I stuck around with my tribe, stayed out of trouble, no problem. I stayed small and by last year, I think people had finally started to forget about me. 

“Then these two dim-wits come rolling through my town, asking all types of questions about shifters and the crimes that went down all those years ago. Naturally, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut, so I offered to help them track the thing down again.

“We ganked the thing the second time around, but the damage was done. The little creep had snatched my body again and mowed down innocents like a machine. I stood trial again, and this time they were ruthless. I got life in prison without parole, but I couldn't stick around. Sooner or later they’d realize I wasn't aging quite right. 

“I did some heavy duty memory magic on the guards and gave the place the slip. I was still underground when Derek came and got me the other day. And now I’m here, giving my story to the first douche that typed my name into Google and called himself Sherlock Holmes.” She finished with a snap, and eight sets of eyebrows rose as they turned to look at Abercrombie, who had the good sense to look ashamed.

“Oh, well, uh, alright, I just wanted to…y’know…double check. For Stiles’s sake” He said sheepishly, tucking his phone into his back pocket.

Peter was giving Elizabeth an appraising smile, and he looked as if the sass she’d thrown they boy’s way was fueling Peter’s very being. “If our dear Jackson here is so concerned about Stiles, why don’t you start the story from the beginning, Elizabeth? Why don’t you share with the class how you ended up in Beacon Hills?”

Elizabeth chucked softly and shook her head, “You don’t want to hear all that! I’m five hundred years old, you don’t have the time!”

“No, I think it’s a good idea, and quite frankly I’m surprised Peter came up with it.” Stiles said, stepping forward from where Lydia had yanked him to her side. “I mean, I’d like to know who I’m gonna have poking around inside my head before we get down to the actual poking.”

Elizabeth held Stiles’s gaze, and when he pulled a face that obviously said ‘Get on with it!’ she relented with a sigh. “Alright, fine. If that’s what you want.”

“Please tell me this story includes how you met one Derek Hale.” Erica said, as she began pulling chairs from around the loft, setting them in a circle that had Elizabeth feeling like she’d wandered into Witches Anonymous.

“It does…” Elizabeth said warily, her eyes sliding to the man himself, who was watching her with a curious expression, one which told Elizabeth that if she wasn’t comfortable sharing, Derek would clear the loft and she wouldn't have to explain another thing. She shook her head at him, and he relaxed, settling into one of the chairs directly across from her.

When they were all settled, Elizabeth looked about the room and felt her cheeks burn under the gaze of the nine people staring at her. To her left and right, she had Scott and Peter, and next to Scott was Stiles, followed by Isaac and Derek, next to who were Lydia and Jackson, followed by Erica and boy with dark skin and a stony expression whom Elizabeth hadn't been introduced to yet. 

She sighed deeply and began with “I guess I’ll start at the beginning, yeah?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, hi! This is just a quick chapter that'll lead into Elizabeth's back story with the Hales and it introduces the rest of the characters into the story (with the exception of Kira, but we'll get there.)
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's reading this and keeping up with it. Like I said, it's my first work here and I'm so grateful to have people take interest in it!
> 
> Comments are lovely and always welcomed!


	5. The Wolves, The Witch, and The Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I need you to bear with me on this one, because we're gonna be hopping around in time. I tried my best to make distinctions obvious, and hopefully this is as clear as I think it is.
> 
> I tried to keep everyone as close to character as possible, taking liberties with Talia and Laura, obviously, but I'd like to think I stayed remotely true to who they are.
> 
> Feel free to lemme know how I did, comments and suggestions are welcome! Thanks guys!

Elizabeth Till, was born in Spain somewhere in the summer of 1480, and snuck her way onto Christopher Columbus’s voyage to India at the age of 12.

***

_“What? Now-a-days, you’d call it hitchhiking!” She’d cried when every eyebrow in the room looked dangerously close to disappearing into their respective hairlines._

***

Having discovered her magic at an early age, but being born of non-magical parents, she hoped to join the witches and wizards in India to begin an understanding of her magic. Indian magic was practical, and it connected logic and the mind with the powers gifted to her, and everyone within a mile radius of her small home knew she needed a lesson in logic and practicality...

***

_“I’d promised to fix the village as soon as I’d returned from the voyage,” She explained, a sad longing in her eyes, “and sometimes I still wonder if my parents ever fixed the hole I blew in the roof. I hope they did...”_

***

She couldn't have predicted landing in the Bermuda islands, but when the time came, she found that she’d rather stay in this land of solitude than return home unlearned and as much of a loose cannon as she’d been when she left. She decided to settle down and begin honing her magic on her own.

***

_“Today, you call it San Salvador. Luckily I stumbled across a small coven among the natives. They were witches and wizards, the whole bunch of them, and they took me in and taught me all they knew.”_

***

They were the ones who found her, alone and sleeping on a bed of woven grass, surrounded by protection enchantments etched painstakingly into the neighboring trees. Having been there hundreds of years, and having had practiced magic for hundreds of years prior, she had finally found the teachers she’d needed. Their magic focused primarily on survival, and the prolonging of life. At 13, she was learning how to maintain her youth through the absorption of years unlived by the animals which had become their meals.

***

_“Wai-Wai-Wait, you Hocus Pocus’d poor little animals? Binx would be mortified!” Stiles cried, earning himself an exasperated eye roll from nearly everyone in the room._

_Elizabeth managed to look sheepish for a moment, “Didn’t say eternal youth was perfect, but it’s efficient. I don’t look a day over eighteen.”_

***

She learned defensive spells and combat from them, how to prepare meals, how to clean her clothes. It was domestic. It was boring. The coven could sense her restless spirit, and decided that her training with them had reached its conclusion. There was just one more lesson to her learning: transmutation.

***

_“This came in clutch in high school. Never rode the bus a day in my life.” She added smugly._

_“And yet you could never pop in and grab me.” Derek countered, and clearly this was a chip Derek had been keeping on his shoulder for a very long time._

_“Spoken like a true Bus-Rider, Der."_

***

“It’s the moving of your body from one place to the next, using your mind and the memory of where you’re going”, they’d told her, but it’s risky to aim for anywhere you hadn't been personally, which is why they spent day in and day out training her around the island, making sure she landed precisely on her mark before letting her see ancient maps they'd been attempting to assemble which depicted a massive body of land to the west.

***

_“I landed somewhere in Mexico, though I didn't know it at that point. I spent months searching for a new coven. I didn't know that meant wandering aimlessly for 1300 miles, obviously. Makes the drills Coach made us run look like child’s play.” She’d said to Derek, but the grunts and groans that ran around the room let her know that everyone had suffered at the hands of Bobby Finstock._

***

1300 miles and almost a full year later, she stopped by a lake, not far outside of modern day New Orleans. That’s where she met the coven she’d spend the next 500-some-odd years with. A deviant of the Cherokee tribe, they broke away from their larger family and moved south, where energy was stronger and lent itself to the more passionate, emotional magic they pursued. 500 years of learning later, that’s when she, now grown to look the age of seventeen, headed out once again, looking to expand her horizons beyond witches and wizards, perhaps even make some human friends.

 

Beacon Hills was the third stop on her journey, and the town’s eerie, mystical pull had her staying for longer than she’d intended. Long enough that when she was caught strolling the streets by a younger Sheriff John Stilinski, he hung his head out the window and asked why she wasn't in school. She’d arrived in Beacon Hills in early August, and had hardly noticed as time slipped into the beginnings of September. She’d gaped at the Sheriff for a few moments,

***

_“No money, no friends, and the clothes I had on my back and in my satchel? Not exactly first-day-of-school ready, my friends. And I told the Sheriff as much. Looked real sorry for me, too, which I reckon is why he let me hop in the car and took me to the station.” Her gaze lingered on Stiles for a moment before dropping it and smiling softly, “Your dad’s one helluva guy.”_

At the station, the Sheriff did a thorough background check on one “Elizabeth Till” from New Orleans and found exactly what she’d told him he would: nothing. He eyed her skeptically from behind his computer screen. After being put through the ringer with a nearly endless stream of questions, the Sheriff finally gave in with a sigh and a calloused hand running over his tired face. He asked her if she’d be willing to start school tomorrow, and work odd jobs in the station in order to pay for a decent motel. She’d accepted without any need for negotiation. Elizabeth Till was enrolled that day.

A day later she started at Beacon Hills High School as a senior. Having never attended a human school before, she’d only had what she’d learned in books and films to go on. Walking in in her tattered road clothes, she knew she’d catch some glares, but it wasn't until a pair of bright eyes caught hers from underneath dark brows that she’d held their gaze.

***

_“Laura Hale.” Elizabeth smiled softly, “My first Beacon Buddy”. She rolled her eyes, “That's what she called herself, anyway. Laura wasn't one to be shy. Her brother, on the other hand…” Elizabeth gave Derek a sly smile, to which he scoffed at and crossed his arms._

Laura had an aura about her that drew Elizabeth to her, almost as if she were the same type of supernatural that Elizabeth was, but she knew that couldn't be possible. She could sense magic a mile away, but there was something about Laura, something to be uncovered. Elizabeth buried her curiosity at the time, instead choosing to listen to Laura yammer about the school, her friends, and her family, specifically her younger brother Derek, who was captain of the JV basketball team.

It was Derek this, basketball that. And a whole lot of “Oh, you have to meet so-and-so…” and of course Elizabeth met them all. If by “met”, you mean Laura yammered a mile a minute about how cool she was, even though she couldn't remember ever getting a word in edge-wise.

The first day went without much of a hitch. Elizabeth was by no means a feral child, in fact, the weirdest thing about her was probably the thick southern accent she’d never been able to shake. As America had filled with outlanders and industrialized, the tribe had revolutionized itself to conform to the times, lest they be seen for what they really were. Among fellow natives, magic was common place, but the new settlers…not so much.

***

_“You never forget your first angry mob.”_

***

At lunch she’d met Laura’s friends, and was just setting her tray down between Laura and the vacant seat next to her when her spaghetti lunch was mercilessly brutalized by a basketball. She’d looked up, horror struck, to see an equally horrified looking boy whose features so closely resembled Laura’s that he could be none other than—

***

_“Derek? Derek put the ol’ Spalding between you and a plate of food and lived to see the light of another day?” Peter said, almost reverently, eyes wide and eyebrows threatening to disappear into his slick hair line._

_“Wasn’t me he had to worry about that time, it was— ___

____

***

“Laura, it was an accident!” The boy was quick to explain, holding up open palms in response to the murderous glint in Laura’s eyes. His eyes shifted pleadingly to Elizabeth, who immediately took pity on the lost-puppy-dog face.

“It’s no problem, Laur, really.” She’d said, laying a hand on Laura’s shoulder to pull her attention away from her kid brother. “He probably just saved me from food poisoning, I mean, look at this? Is this even sauce? It looks like someone melted the track turf and slapped it on noodles…” She apprehensively pulled the basketball from the goop, a look of disgust on her face as she offered it back to Derek. “If it’d been pizza, then things’d be different.” She shot him a sly grin as he attempted to grab the ball only to have it jerked away last minute. “Don’t make this a habit, alright?”

Derek had nodded his head and taken his ball back, snatching napkins from Laura’s plate before dropping into the seat beside Elizabeth. His eyes followed her every move as she settled back into her seat before asking, “You’re not from around here, are you?”

Now that she was closer to him, Elizabeth felt the same supernatural vibes rolling off of Derek as well. Perhaps it was the supernaturally good looks, but she doubted it. The energy came from deep within their chests, creating an aura around the pair that she could almost see, if only she just looked a little harder… “Uh…no. What gave it away, the accent or the clothes?” She’d said sheepishly. 

“The attitude,” he’d said simply. She got the impression that he drove everyone wild with the dark-strong-and-silent mojo he had going for him. Elizabeth supposed she could find that attractive if she swung for that team. Or any team at all.

Lunch passed by quickly and easily, and Laura begrudgingly passed Elizabeth into Derek’s “less than capable” hands for their shared gym period. The pair walked from the cafeteria to the gym, exchanging simple small talk and keeping a good distance. After they’d changed into their respective uniforms (Elizabeth didn't want to know how long these things had been around) they took to the indoor basketball court, sharing a hoop and the ball that still had marinara sauce stains on it. Laura had told her he was captain of JV Basketball, which is why it struck her as odd that he was missing almost as many shots as he was making.

The source of his distraction, she found within minutes, was a small, pale girl sitting on the fold-out bleachers, legs tucked beneath her as she skim read The Catcher in the Rye, the stressed look on her face indicative of the impending quiz she must have next period.

***

_“Of course it was a girl, how cliché can you be!” Scott said between belly laughs, but was promptly shut up when Lydia gave him a scathing, “Need I remind you of Allison?”_

_The room tensed noticeably._

***

While Derek was distracted, Elizabeth passed the ball directly into the side to his unassuming face. The dazed and confused look he gave her after rubbing his cheek for a minute made her chuckle, “Pay attention, dweeb. Either sink some shots or ask her out, because you’re definitely not gonna impress her with air balls.” She’d chided, jogging past him to retrieve the ball that had rolled within feet of the object of Derek’s current affections. As she stood up, she caught the young girl’s eyes and turned conspiratorially toward Derek before snapping her gaze back to the girl, “Hey, I’m Elizabeth!” She’d said.

The girl look startled, her eyes shifting from Elizabeth, to something behind her, and then back again, “Paige, are you new here?”

“Yes, she is. And she’s helping me with my free-throws, excuse us.” Came an agitated voice from behind her, and a hard grip closed around her elbow…almost unnaturally hard, she noted, as she was dragged back to the court.

“What the Bat-Hell do you think you’re doing?” Derek gritted out, like his teeth would never unlock ever again.

Elizabeth’s returning smirk was maddening, “It’s called getting your foot in the door, Derek, learn how to do it.”

Derek snorted, “Oh, I’m gonna get my foot in there, right after I get my foot up your—“

“ _HALE._ ” A gruff voice called from behind the pair, and they both turned to see Coach Finstock looking at them as if they’d personally wronged him, “As much as I’d love to hear the end of that sentence so I can put you in detention for swearing in my gym, how about you save us both the time and get back to shooting!”

***

_“Some things never change.” Scott said, disdain and a hint of amazement in his voice, “Who’d have thought you’d gotten the Bobby Finstock experience, too?” He said, looking at Derek._

_“Just how old do you think I am?” Derek responded indignantly._

_Isaac looked to seriously be pondering the question, “I always figured somewhere between 21 and 40,” he finally deduced._

_Elizabeth laughed at the way Derek’s skin paled at the latter option, softly muttering “40” under his breath._

***

Derek’s ears grew hot pink under the attention of the entire gym; he looked as though he was using his entire reserve of will power not to look over to where Paige had looked up from her book to watch the exchange.

Elizabeth gave him a punch to the shoulder, pulling him out of his head. “C’mon, show me what you’ve got kid. You need some Space Jam to warm you up? I can sing it if you want! Ev—“she began, but was quickly silenced by Derek turning and sinking a shot from the free-throw line, going to retrieve the ball with a satisfied smirk. “Oh big deal, that’s why they call it a free throw line!” She’d said with a laugh.

 

Months passed this way, and every day she grew closer to the Hales, until one day she’d been invited to sleep over with Laura and her younger sister Cora, whom she had yet to meet, but had often seen hanging out the passenger side of Laura’s car, waving and laughing maliciously at Derek who was frantically chasing after them because he’d missed his bus.

She liked her already, so she’d agreed to stay the night.

Upon arrival, the most ethereally beautiful woman descended upon her, and for a moment she was ready to shout “SIREN” and tear her jugular out, but a moment later soft arms wound around her, and a soft voice greeted her into the home, adding “I’m Talia, the kids’ mother.”

Good thing she didn't go with Operation: De-Jugular.

That night she spent most of her time holed up in Laura’s room, discussing Laura’s Crush of the Week, and this week it was Something Harris—who in Elizabeth’s opinion was destined to grow up a douche, but for whom Laura held out infinitely high hope.

***

_“Adrian Harris?” Lydia sputtered before dissolving into laughter, “Laura and Harris? People were capable of finding Harris attractive?” She sounded utterly disbelieving, and continued to laugh randomly at the thought of anyone finding the late Adrian Harris appealing._

***

“I convinced him to sneak over on Friday night to help study for chem.” Laura’d said, but the way she said it let Elizabeth know that absolutely no studying would be happening.

“Now Laura, that’s just wrong. Sneaking a boy into your room, why, you sound like…well, me, at your age.” Came a silken voice from Laura’s doorway, and Elizabeth turned to see a boy not much older than themselves leaning against the door frame.

“Jeez, Peter, you sure sound arrogant for someone who’s all of two years older than me.” Laura said as she rolled onto her back on her bed, letting her waterfalls of deep brown hair fall over the edge as she turned her eyes to the boy in the door, Peter, apparently.

“Hey now, I know you’re trying to look cool in front of your pretty new friend,” Peter sent a wink her way that was met with a look so chilly she could have sworn Peter shuddered a little, “but you do have to learn to respect your elders, and after all, I’m your uncle! Does family mean nothing to you?”

Laura flipped him off and Peter strolled away with an indignant huff, his footsteps retreating up to the third floor landing, presumably off to bug Derek.

Cora ambled through the door halfway through John Tucker Must Die, and Laura threw a pillow at her face, deeming it damaging to such young eyes.

“I’m not naïve, Laur, I’m in middle school, not Kindergarten.” Cora howled, lobbing the pillow back at Laura, who hopped out of bed and tackled her younger sister to the ground, all in the name of friendly roughhousing.

Until it wasn't.

One unintentional kick to Cora’s ribs and she was howling for real this time, like, full blown howling. Her canine teeth were elongating and her eyes were glowing an unearthly gold as she writhed away from Laura. In a moment, Derek and Peter had descended upon the room; Derek’s eyes a matching gold while Peter’s were an icy blue.

Laura met Elizabeth’s wide-eyed stare with a golden gaze of her own, her mouth working soundlessly to explain the situation.

And that’s when Talia forced the two boys occupying the doors aside, stepping into the room with a gaze that was burning red. She stood before Elizabeth with squared shoulders and a hard expression, contemplating before speaking, “Looks like we’re gonna have to let you in on a little secret.”

Twenty minutes and The Hale Family History: Abridged later, and Elizabeth sat on the worn leather sofa of her friends’ home completely shell shocked. She’d seen so many supernatural creatures, and she’d assumed the Hales had to be at least one of them, but she’d never encountered a werewolf pack that had grown so accustomed to human life style. If anything, she was mad she hadn't caught it sooner.

Despite her constant reassurance that their secret was safe, the following visits to the Hale house were still tense, and even in school Laura and Derek were giving her a wider berth than usual. One day, sick of the tension, she stormed into the Hale house without having laid a hand on the door, but rather gave a lazy flick of the wrist and watched it break off its hinges.

***

_“I still say that was one of your greatest over-reactions, Lizzy.” Peter drawled, “There was no need for such drama.”_

_“You’re telling me I have a flair for the dramatics, that’s rich! And what did I say about calling me Lizzy?”_

***

“I’m going to pay for that, literally, with money.” She announced as she lingered in the entry way. “C’mon guys, don’t be scared-y wolves! You told me your secret, and I’m gonna tell you mine!”

Slowly, one by one, members of the Hale family approached her in the landing, each turning a suspicious eye on her.

She looked from person to person, growing more exasperated with every mistrusting look, “Oh c’mon, y’all’ve never seen a witch before?”

“Never a good one.” Peter drawled, claws drawn already.

“Then call me Glinda.” She shot back quickly, to which Peter responded with a quick smirk.

After performing some minor miracles, a few of which were at Peter’s expense for the snide comments he’d made during her rituals, the family had finally thawed out, and before long, the girls were packed in Laura’s room, once again tittering mindlessly about the elusive (“and possible son of Satan” Elizabeth added,) Adrian Harris.

At school, the routine returned to normal, perhaps even more comfortable than before. Laura and Elizabeth had taken to letting their abilities fly during the day. Laura could hear the racing heartbeat of the boy slowly gathering up the courage to ask Elizabeth to the impending winter formal, and Elizabeth was able to spare him the rejection by slipping from the class to make an emergency bathroom trip. When Adrian Harris made a snide comment about Derek in their gym class, a rogue soccer ball found its way into his crotch. Elizabeth was blamed, but that was more because of her impeccable skills with a soccer ball, rather than the enchantment she’d put on the ball before she’d drilled it from down the field. The captain of the girls’ soccer team took notice, and after a few minutes of excited chatter and insistent begging, Elizabeth agreed to try out for the spring soccer team.  
“Look at you,” Derek sauntered up to her after watching the soccer captain retreat back to her side of the field.

“Yeah, yeah, don’t break out the varsity jackets, yet, champ. I said I’d try out.” She’d said, batting him away and jogging to pluck a new ball from the bag set by the fence. The bag that was set down only a few feet from Paige…

“You ever gonna get up and play?” Elizabeth asked with a smile, rolling the ball from hand to hand as she looked down at the girl who had just dog-eared one of the final pages in _A Farewell to Arms_.

“Dunno, is this school ever gonna get rid of tedious and mind-numbing displays of male arrogance and instead fill this hour with something worth my time?” She’d said, but the venom of her words was offset by the devious smirk paired with the glint in her eye. Across the field Derek was smiling softly, obviously having used his hearing to hang off this girl’s every word.

“They haven’t before.” Elizabeth said with a chuckle, and dropped the ball to her feet, already turning to leave when a thought struck her. “Y’know, speaking of mind-numbing displays of male arrogance…the basketball team’s having its first game of the season on Thursday. Me and my friend Laura are gonna be there, you think you’d wanna tag along? Free snacks and sarcasm will be provided by yours truly!” She said hopefully, and she was sure if she listened closely, she’d hear Derek’s neck crack from the speed at which he’d turned his head to glare at her. “Come on, there’s like, ten pages left of that book, you’ll be done by Thursday. And spoiler alert, Catherine dies!” She added on, and she knew she was begging, and was just short of dropping to her knees before Paige let out a breathy laugh.

“I do enjoy a free snack.” She said, laying the book to rest at her side before raising her head to meet Elizabeth’s hopeful stare. “Yeah, alright. D’you mind picking me up for the game, I can’t drive or—“

“Not a problem,” Elizabeth cut her off in her excitement. She hoped this was okay with Laura, but she also had a feeling that as soon as Elizabeth told her that this was the girl that had Derek humming love songs, that Laura would be mourning the moments that she didn’t have Paige all to herself. “We’ll grab you at six to make sure we have enough time to grab snacks and seats!”

“ _ **TILL.**_ ”

“Oh boy. Catch you Thursday, yeah?” Elizabeth said with a bright smile, trotting off across the field and throwing Finstock a casual wave while he chewed her out for something or other.

 

She never did catch Paige Thursday.

Or any day after that.

Laura and Elizabeth were in Laura’s bedroom at the Hale house when Derek and Peter had positively blown through the door, leaving it hanging sadly off its hinges. Laura and Elizabeth flew to the balcony’s edge to see the boys standing in the landing, chests heaving, tear tracks staining Derek’s cheeks.

“I’m not paying for another new door.” Elizabeth said, despite the tension in the room.

“Talia!” Peter roared, and the Alpha descended upon them, hardly touching a single step on her decent down the stairs. She’d taken Derek and Peter to the basement, and Laura was only able to hear jumbled phrases, but she knew Paige was dead. 

Derek was never the same after that.

***

_The room was tense and silent; all eyes either staring pointedly at the floor or at Derek, who was holding his own in a starring match against Elizabeth, who had the decency to look sheepish at rehashing such a sensitive topic._

_“That’s heavy shit, man. I’m sorry.” Said the deep voice of the boy Elizabeth had yet to meet._

_“Thanks Boyd, really.” Derek said earnestly, shaking his head as he finally dropped his gaze. “’S in the past now, nothing I can do about it.”_

_Elizabeth took that as her cue to continue her story._

***

Time moved on after that, as it always does, and spring brought some life back to Beacon Hills, and it even worked small wonders on Derek’s mood. The spring soccer season had started, and Elizabeth found herself among the top athletes on the team, and talent scouts did little to hide their interest in having her play for their schools. It was surreal, how easily she’d blended into modern human life, but she could honestly say she was happiest here with her friends, in this town, working the odd hours at the police station where Sherriff Stilinski would often drop a doughnut on her desk, muttering something like, “I’ll show him a healthy diet, spinach for dinner for the rest of his life.”, which concerned her, but she never prodded, just kept working, munching happily on the abandoned doughnut.

One night after practice, she’d headed to the Hale house to grab a quick shower before heading home. She’d explained her water situation in the motel to Talia, and the sanitation issue she had with the school, and Mrs. Hale had agreed to let her use the shower and anything else in the home whenever she needed. It was cool having a mother figure, and she often thought of the mother she’d left behind and wondered if she’d ever missed her daughter. 

She’d just arrived in Laura’s room, stumbling a bit due to the sloppy transfiguration, when she heard a gut-wrenching howl from the third floor landing. The house was empty at this hour—save for Derek, usually, so she immediately went hurdling up the stairs before crashing through his bedroom door. She found him curled on the floor, his body twisting horribly, eyes shining the same haunting blue as Peter’s. She’d screamed his name as she fell to the floor beside him, grappling for any part of his body that she could grab and hold on to as he writhed on the floor.

“”It’s my fault,” he’d been shouting, over and over, tears pouring down his face as he bashed himself against the floor over and over again, “It’s my fault, it’s my fault!”

In a panic, Elizabeth took a firm grip on Derek’s forearm, and forced his fingers to clasp onto hers in return. Her eyes fluttered closed as she muttered an incantation softly, repeating it until she opened her eyes again, and they began glowing an ethereal white, mimicking the glow her hand was creating where it rested on Derek’s forearm.  
His shrieking stopped, and slowly his body stopped writhing on the ground. His heart rate slowed, and eventually returned to normal as the last traces of that sapphire blue faded from his eyes. His gaze shifted to her, watching in amazement as the soft white glow seemed to absorb into her skin before going out with a sudden flurry, her eyes flickering back to their dazzling emerald.

They just weren't as bright as they used to be, and Derek noticed immediately. He sat up and took her by the shoulders, shaking her slightly. “Zab, what did you just do?” After getting no response, he shook her harder, moving his hands up to cup her face and jerk it back and forth, “Zab! Answer me, what did you just do?”

She lifted her hauntingly blank gaze to meet his, “I took your guilt.” She whispered, “I took it away from you, so you could heal.” Her eyes were drooping, and she was wavering on the spot. “Couldn't let you live with that, Der.”

Derek looked horrified, and only after she told him what she’d done did he realize that his chest felt lighter in a way it hadn't since Paige’s death. “You idiot.” He said softly.  
Elizabeth smiled softly at that, before passing out in Derek’s lap.

 

She woke up tucked into Laura’s bed, three sets of eyes looming over her, one of Talia’s records spinning gently downstairs, the sounds of _Rhiannon_ spilling softly through the house. Elizabeth blinked a few times before exhaling sharply; pulling herself on her elbows to better address the committee around the bed.

“Good ol’ Stevie.” She said groggily.

“A White Witch.” Talia said, and her voice gave nothing away.

“Yep,” Elizabeth replied, nodding gently so as to not further upset her still spinning head.

“And you were going to tell us…when?”

Elizabeth met Talia’s eyes briefly before dropping them again. “Probably never.” She replied, fiddling with the fraying fibers of Laura’s quilt.

Talia nodded and left the room, leaving Elizabeth alone with her daughter and son.

“What the Hell’s a White Witch, Zab?” Laura asked with her eyes wide and imploring. “You’d have thought Derek’d brought home a unicorn when he told Mom what you did.”

Elizabeth smiled softly, “So she’d not mad?”

“No.” Derek said firmly.

“I think she’s shocked. Whatever you are, she said you were rare.” Laura added on, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “You’re stronger than most witches, aren't you? You’re different.”

Elizabeth nodded the affirmative.

“You can heal people…” Derek said, unsure.

“Not exactly.”

“Then what do you do?” Laura asked immediately after.

“I absorb their pain, sorrow, guilt.” She explained, her eyes landing on Derek a moment before returning to the quilt in her fingers. “I've never done it without preparation like that before; it was stupid of me.”

“How so?” Derek asked, and the look in his eyes told Elizabeth that he was already blaming himself for this.

“When I take the pain, it magnifies and manifests. I underestimated what you were going through, Der. Usually I’d take the grief in installments, make sure I could handle it before I jumped right in like that, but I was so scared, Der, you shoulda seen your face, it was awful, it—“ She was cut off by Derek pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. They’d never been the affectionate type; save for friendly punches that you could hardly call affection, so when she wrapped her arms about his back in return it had felt foreign, but not unwelcome. “I couldn’t, Der. I couldn’t.” She whispered into the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“Oh, come on guys, don’t have a moment unless you’re gonna invite me to it!” Laura wined, pouncing on top of the two. “We’re lucky to have you around here, Zabby! You keep looking out for us and we’ll keep looking out for you!” She’d continued cheerfully, pulling away from the group hug with a wild look in her eyes, “Now what do you say we put those powers to good use and bug the shit out of Peter?”

“Don’t you dare.” Was the droning response from down the hall. They all collapsed in a fit of giggles on Laura’s bed, and Elizabeth was really starting to understand what it meant to have a family.

 

They were all so busy looking out for each other that they never looked out for Kate Argent. 

She’d burst onto the scene like a bat out of hell, all raunchy jokes and leather jackets and a fondness for roughhousing. She was so totally the opposite of Paige that Elizabeth was floored the first time Derek had introduced her to them.

Laura’s disdain was so evident that her hatred couldn't be clearer if she was shoving a knife in Kate’s throat herself. “You've got to be joking, Der. This is who you decide to ease back into dating with?” She whispered harshly under her breath while Kate moved on to shake hands with Talia. She turned to watch as Kate spoke lazily with her mother, her face showing hardly any indication of whether or not she was even happy to be here.

“She grows on you.” Derek offered, but the look on Laura’s face told him that she wasn't having it. “Oh, come on. You had the hots for _Harris_!”

“A moment of weakness, little brother!” She hissed, and it was true. The reign of Adrian Harris had ended when Laura had overheard a particularly nasty comment Adrian had made about her little brother, which had ended in two black eyes, neither of which besmirched Laura’s lovely face.

Her sister’s words of warning did nothing to change Derek’s mind, and his relationship with Kate Argent continued.

 

She was in gym with Derek; shamelessly shit talking the entire idea of lacrosse as she passed the ball back and forth with him. It was a beautiful spring day, mid-May, and the last day of school was so close she could almost taste it. Granted, she felt like she was cheating, getting the senior experience and not having passed through a single grade prior, but the excitement was all the same. She had college prospects, thanks to soccer and her stellar performance in all of her classes. She and Laura were shooting ideas off each other of where they’d like to go, who they’d like to be. Laura wanted to preserve wildlife, and Elizabeth was leaning toward cultural studies. She’d already seen so many places in the world, and yet she had the insatiable desire to see more. 

She was just wondering if the tribes in India were still around and if she’d ever be able to get her logical magic training when the metal doors of the gym flew open, and Laura staggered in, letting out a miserable wail that sounded like her brother’s name.

Both Elizabeth and Derek were on her in a moment, Derek holding her upright and demanding to know what happened. Elizabeth turned and looked around the gym to find all eyes on them; even Finstock seemed to be at a loss for words.

“We need to get home, Derek. Now! Now, come _ON_ , Derek. They’re dying! Derek they’re _DYING_!” She was alternating between sobbing and shrieking, pulling desperately on Derek’s arms as she tried to jerk free from his grasp.

“Who, Laura, who? Who’s dying?” Derek shouted over her, his hands gripping her shoulders tighter as he tried to settle his sister.

“Everyone! _Ev-er-y-one_ …” She choked out, her sobs racking every syllable. Derek turned wild eyes on Elizabeth, looking for help, looking for an answer she didn't have. “We need to get back to the house, Derek, _now_!”

And it clicked. The Hale family. Talia was having visitors. Cora was home sick. Peter. Something terrible was happening, and Elizabeth was already across town before Derek or Laura could say another word.

She gagged on smoke the moment she hit solid ground, dropping to her knees to catch her breath. There was screaming, laughter, and the horrible splintering of wood as floors and ceilings collapsed. She struggled to keep her eyes open long enough to watch the terrible red-yellow flames flare against the thick black smoke. “ _TALIA_!” She cried, but her voice came out a weak squawk.

As she struggled to her feet, she watched dark figures, shrouded by the smoke, toss gasoline tanks through the shattered windows of the Hale home, the fire roaring horribly inside as the tanks broke and the flames danced. She reached out for one of these figures with an open palm, and with a clench of her fist, she dragged them to the ground and with a harsh motion, she brought her balled fist to her side, and with it came the grey mass that she recognized as…

“Hey, sweetie!” Kate said with a wry smile, her eyes glinting horribly even through the smog. “Glad you could make it, we’re having s’mores.” Her leg swung out and knocked Elizabeth to the ground, and while she was down, Kate crawled atop her and pulled a blade from her belt, pressing it into her neck, her racing pulse betraying her beneath the cool silver. “Where are your pals? Wouldn’t be right to start the party without the guest of honor!” She said with a mock-pout. “What’s his name, there, David…Danny…”

“You never loved him…” Elizabeth said, her eyes widening as she took in the woman hovering above her, the woman Derek had trusted with his secret, with all their secrets. And she’d been a hunter; she’d been planning this the whole time, right under their noses.

Kate shook her head softly, dragging her blade the slightest bit across Elizabeth’s skin. “’Fraid not, Daisy Duke.” She said, doing a horrible impression of Elizabeth’s voice.

Her eyes were glowing before she had control of herself, and Kate reared back on her heels in an effort of self-preservation. Smart girl, Elizabeth thought as she swung a right hook at her, she’d never wanted to kick someone’s ass more in her very long life.

Kate deflected the hit and twirled away, her hair dancing like the flames in the house. “Gotta be quicker than that, Sabrina!” She cackled horribly, and tossed a dagger at Elizabeth’s chest from a cloud of smoke. Elizabeth caught it, and turned it easily back on Kate, catching her in the arm, and delighting in the sound of her pain. “Y’know, witch bitch, don’t you think it’s silly wasting your time fighting me when you should be saving them?” Her head jerked to the home, now almost entirely alight with flames.

Elizabeth hated to agree with her, but she was right. She didn't have time for Kate, but that didn't mean she had to let her walk away easily. With a flash of her ghostly eyes and a harsh flick of the wrist, Kate dropped to the ground with a terrible cry of agony. While she was down, Elizabeth delivered a punishing kick to her jaw, watching with deep satisfaction as Kate spat out two or three bloodied teeth. “Then I think you know it’s time for you to leave.” She spoke in a dangerous tone, turning her back on the girl who now lay in the dirt with a pair of shattered ankles and a broken jaw.

“I’ll come back for you, bitch!” Kate said around a mouth full of blood, and Elizabeth could tell she was retreating by the distance the voice came from. “Hunters don’t stop at the big game, baby, we gun for the whole forest.”

Elizabeth sneered, but was now focused entirely on the house. The figures that had been running around outside of the house had long since vanished, and the screams from inside the burning walls had been silenced. Her eyes scanned the windows for any sign of life, and when she found none, she began to panic. She raised both arms above her head, and as she brought them back down, tore the front of the house off with a wild scream, her nose dripping blood from the exertion. The beautiful façade of the home crumbled at her feet as Elizabeth scanned frantically about the open skeleton of the house for a sign of anyone.

A flailing hand caught her eye, appearing in what she knew to be Peter’s room. As she made a move to run into the flames, a hand closed around her shoulder. Ready for Round Two with Kate, she rounded on the owner of the hand, already maintaining a firm grasp on their wrist before recognizing that it was Derek, whose eyes were glowing a beautiful blue as they reflected the horrible orange that was seeping from his home.

“What the hell happened, Zab?” Derek asked breathlessly as Laura bound past them into the burning house, already more than half shifted before she disappeared among the flames.

The name ‘Kate’ was on the tip of her tongue, but the memory of Derek writhing on the wooden floor of the now burning home screaming, ‘It’s my fault!’ prevented her from doing any such thing. “Hunters, Der. I tried to fight, but the smoke, I could barely…” Tears welled in her eyes, and she pushed Derek from her, setting her lips in a straight line. “You need to go, before they find you.”

He looked at her like she had three heads, “What, no! Laura’s in there, she’ll need help! Peter? I can’t leave, Elizabeth. Are you crazy?” He moved to push past her, but Elizabeth put a hand out to stop him.

“I’m not crazy, Derek. I know what they’re capable of. Look at this!” She gestured to the swirling storm of flames, “You can’t be here, not when they’re so close.”

“I’m not, I’m not going.” Derek said, tears welling up and falling down his handsome face.

“Get out of Beacon Hills, Derek. Get the Hell out of here!” She screamed in his tear stained face, warm tears falling from her own eyes. “You gotta go, _now_!” She pushed him from her body and watched as he staggered towards the woods, only to charge back toward the house a moment later. Elizabeth let out a horrible shriek as she raised a hand to him, and with a wild wave of her arm, Derek was sent hurdling back to the edge of the forest. “Don’t you come back here Derek. _Run_!” She screamed, her voice raw from the strain, her eyes glowing a haunting white, hair whipping wildly about her face.

And so he did.

She didn't expect to see the Hale family, or whatever was left of it, ever again.

She left town the next morning, the only sign of her departure being the paper bag with a doughnut inside, ‘Sorry’ written across it in messy pink scrawl, which sat on the Sheriff's desk when he arrived to work that day.


	6. The Truth

The pack shifted uncomfortably in their seats for a moment. The Fire was always such a touchy subject, and was only mentioned when there was absolutely no way to avoid bringing it up. Eyes shifted between Peter and Derek, and then dropped before the subject of the stare could feel the gazer’s look upon them.

Peter broke the silence by letting out an empty laugh and shrugging exaggeratedly, “Well, what can you do, am I right?” He slapped his thighs before standing, dismissing himself and trotting up the winding staircase to the second floor of the loft. They thought they heard something break, but no one offered a comment.

The tense silence resumed. 

“You don’t have to tell us…” Isaac began nervously, his wide eyes fixed on Derek, “but where’d you go after the fire? You were gone for years and…” His voice trailed off, not knowing where else to go with the question.

Derek took a deep breath and shrugged gently, barely shifting his broad shoulder. “I was alone. I wanted to be alone.”

Elizabeth didn't have to be a werewolf to know he was lying, but the young man known as Boyd was the one to call Derek on his bullshit.

“Look man, I’m not trying to pry into your business, but that was your family. You still had Laura and Peter, why didn't you go back?” He said, and Elizabeth was surprised at the confidence his voice carried despite his young age. Elizabeth figured he must be one of those “old soul” people you hear about.

“I was scared, alright?” Derek snapped and his eyes hardened. “I didn't want to go back because there was no way I could set foot in Beacon Hills without being reminded of what I lost.” He leaned forward in his chair, his head hanging as he ran his hand through his hair. “I regret it every day. Every damn day, I think of how different things could’ve gone if I stayed. If I was here, maybe Laura would still…” He stopped himself, shutting his eyes tight and balling his fists. “You guys need to go. Clear out. We’re done.” He gritted out, holding his tense pose in his chair. 

The pack looked around nervously at first, but ultimately decided to follow his orders. They filed out the door and the last one out was Stiles, who lingered in the doorway and mouthed the start to about eight different things before Scott finally came back and dragged him away by the arm before he decided on what to say. The door slipped shut behind them and then it was just Elizabeth and Derek alone in the circle of chairs.

Elizabeth looked at him intently, waiting for him to meet her stare. When he didn't she just clucked her tongue and muttered a soft, “Alright.” under her breath before turning and sitting in the chair directly across from his in the circle. Crossing her arms and legs, she resumed her unwavering stare at the top of Derek’s head.

“I don’t care if I have to sit here all damn night, Derek, you’re going to tell me what the hell’s been happening around here since I've been gone. You think I haven’t noticed we’re down a few Hales? You think that McCall’s little sunshine face and puppy eyes would fool me into believing that nothing weird’s happened in Beacon Hills? That the first supernatural thing to come around here was a freaking Japanese demon? I don’t know what you’re hiding from me Derek, but I want the truth.” She said in an even tone, all business in the eyes that usually sparkled with mischief and laughter.

“You don’t wanna know.” Derek mumbled, still not picking his head up.

“The hell I don’t.” She spat back. “Where are your sisters, Derek? Where the hell did all these prepubescent wolves come from? Why’s Peter running around biting teenagers in the first place? Who the hell died and made him Alpha? Why isn’t he the Alpha anymore? Derek, I have all these questions, and—“

“ _Enough!_ ” Derek roared, and now he was looking at her. He’d sprung from his seat and his eyes were glowing a fierce blue as his chest heaved. 

Elizabeth’s mouth snapped shut, but her eyes began to glow a fearsome white. “That shit won’t work on me Derek.”

“Can’t you just let it go?” He snarled, and the words were so garbled that Elizabeth struggled to understand him.

“Derek Hale…” she said in a low voice that crept from between clenched teeth, “Your family was as good as mine when I was still kicking around these parts. The way I see it, you’re keeping a piece of my life from me, and so help me God Derek, I’ll beat the damn truth out of you if I have to.”

Derek hesitated a moment, snarling and growling and glaring at Elizabeth like he wanted nothing more than to watch her try to get the truth from him, but then he suddenly calmed and his eyes faded back into the beautiful green that Elizabeth was so familiar with. Her own eyes shifted back to their own shade of green and she relaxed as she watched Derek take his seat once again. She waited patiently this time for him to begin.

“Laura’s dead.”

What a way to start off.

Every light bulb in the loft shattered and suddenly the only light was pouring in from the floor to ceiling windows that covered the far wall. 

Elizabeth’s lips formed a tight line as she nodded slowly. Eight years she’d been gone. It shouldn't hurt her so much to hear about the death of a girl she’d known eight years ago. But it did, it hurt so bad that she felt the pain like a dead weight in her chest. 

Laura Hale was _dead_. 

The girl she’d met in her senior year when she was alone and terrified was gone, and now she lived only in memories that involved dark hair and bright eyes. Memories of pranks pulled on unassuming siblings and pointless musings over chemistry nerds and hours and hours of laughter. Elizabeth felt a crippling longing settle in her gut, a longing to crack one last joke with Laura at Peter’s expense. A longing for one more night of fitful sleep because she and Laura’s witty nighttime banter had dissolved into existential questions like ‘What happens when we die?’ and ‘Do you think we’re alone in the universe?’ Elizabeth found her eyes welling with tears, and she met Derek’s eyes to find him in about the same state.

“I came back as soon as I heard.” Derek said quietly, and Elizabeth knew that if he spoke any louder his voice would crack. She didn't think she could handle that.  
“How did it…” She began, but she shook her head, her shaking hand coming to rest over her whimpering lips. She didn't want to know, she didn't want to picture Laura’s body disfigured in any way by any manner of death. Any death was too horrible to imagine. Any manner of death was too terrible for someone as gentle and as kind as Laura.

Derek seemed to think differently on the matter, because he answered her unfinished question with a hallow tone. “Peter.”

Elizabeth’s eyes snapped to meet Derek’s once again, and she blinked away her tears rapidly in confusion. 

“Peter…Peter what? What’s Peter got to do with any of this?” And then she remembered the fire, and Peter’s flailing hand among the flames, and Laura shifting to charge through the debris of her collapsing home. Elizabeth’s heart stopped beating for a moment. “God…my God…Derek, did she die trying to save him?” She thought of how she’d run from the house not long after Derek had left. She assumed that Laura could take care of herself, because Laura was strong as Hell, and even though Peter was a jackass he was still family and she’d do whatever it took to save him. Elizabeth had run because she needed to get away from the scene that caused so much loss and heartache that she felt that she could die just reminiscing about it, but now looking back she realized what a grave mistake she’d made. “I could have saved them both…” She realized with horror, the tears welling up again.

“No, no, Elizabeth, no.” Derek said sadly, waving his hand back and forth to dismiss her thought. Elizabeth took all of a moment to feel some small sense of relief before Derek continued. “Peter killed her.”

Elizabeth was once again too confused for tears, and upstairs she heard something else shatter as if it was dropped suddenly. “Peter…How? What do you mean he killed her, Derek? Like, an accident? Was it a car crash, Derek? Was it a…a…” Her face contorted in confusion as a thousand scenarios flitted through her mind. 

“No, Elizabeth.” And Derek sounded exasperated this time, as if Peter killing Laura should have obvious connotations. “He murdered her.”

“Murder.” Elizabeth spat the word out like it was poison. “Peter wouldn’t…murder, Derek? Peter? God, they had their spats but she was family, Derek. Peter would _never_!”

Another crash from upstairs, something was thrown against a wall. Peter was certainly having some thoughts on redecorating his room.

“He did.” Derek said gravely, and his eyes held a fire that Elizabeth couldn't deny. A fire that said despite the fact that Peter was living under the same roof as Derek, the two still had unspoken tension that hung over them every day. “She became the Alpha after my mother’s passing, and Peter got power-hungry and he…” Derek paused, and then nodded stiffly, letting Elizabeth piece together the rest in her mind.

Elizabeth looked disbelieving for a few more moments, her mouth hung open and her eyes narrowed against the possibility that the boy who’d made crude jokes and constant passes at her in their youth had been the one to murder his own niece. Shock faded into acceptance, and the acceptance faded into indignation, and indignation escalated into a burning, white-hot rage that spilled from her eyes in a blinding light as her gaze settled on the spot in the ceiling were she knew Peter’s room to be.

In a flash, she was there, standing in the make shift bedroom staring at the man who was pacing the floor nervously. On either side of the bed there were broken glasses and plates, and she assumed that’s what Peter had been throwing around the room after they’d breached the subject of the murder. That didn't stop her from raising a hand in front of her and clenching her fist, ripping Peter from the floor to throw him into the wall opposite. 

“How _dare_ you!” She screeched, advancing on Peter with quick steps so that she could place a barrage of sharp kicks to his sternum before he had a chance to get up. “She trusted you! You were family!” She lifted him up and pinned him to the wall, teeth bared and eyes glowing brighter by the minute. Peter, for his part, was taking it, and now that she was close up she could see that his eyes were red rimmed and puffy.

She ignored that fact and slammed him into the wall again. Any minute now Derek would burst into the room and make her stop, but for now, it was just her and Peter. She stepped away, extending her arm before her with an open palm towards Peter to ensure that he’d stay exactly where she’d planted him on the wall.

“You think I don’t regret it!” He screamed, and Elizabeth raised her other hand and with a flick of the wrist, a gash opened across Peter’s chest. He howled in pain, but maintained his human form. “You don’t think that I wish I could take it all back! I was out of my mind back then!”

“I think you’re a coward!” She roared, and with both hands raised, she began slowly curling her fingers towards her palms, effectively splintering several of Peter’s ribs. “I think you’re weak, and I think she deserves to be avenged!”

“She was.” A third voice cut in, and Elizabeth spun to see Derek, standing in the room and looking as impassive as ever. “You think I didn't sink my claws in his throat as soon as I could?”

Elizabeth’s eyes dimmed and Peter fell to the floor with a resounding thud, curling in on himself and favoring his fractured ribs.

“Then why the hell’s he here?” She asked incredulously, because the man whimpering in pain before her was certainly not dead.

Derek shrugged, “It’s a long story.”

Elizabeth scoffed and ran a hand across her face, her eyes falling on Peter once again.

He lifted his eyes and held her gaze. “I’m sorry.”

Elizabeth hadn't heard those words fall from Peter’s lips in all the time she’d known him and would have assumed Derek would admit to crying to The Notebook before she ever did, but there he was curled on the ground looking positively miserable and as apologetic as she’d ever seen him. She was still snarling and breathing heavily, but she found a way to pity him.

“I always knew you were a snake, Peter. I guess I just held you in higher esteem than this.” She said venomously.

Peter whimpered and slipped further toward the floor, barely supporting himself on his forearm to keep pressure off of his fragile ribs.

“Come back downstairs, Zab. There’s more to tell.” Derek said softly and began his decent down the stairs. Elizabeth threw Peter one last glare before following.

She sat there with him for two hours. Two long, emotional hours that left her nearly catatonic under the weight of the pain and suffering that Derek and his pack had endured over the past eight years. Derek looked drained by the time he was done, and Elizabeth couldn't blame him. He’d always been so strong, it was only a matter of time until the façade broke, and the sensitive boy she’d met in high school would reveal himself again.

It was that boy who she was thinking of when she slowly crossed the room and laid her hand on Derek’s forearm. He seemed to immediately understand what she was doing and attempted a weak protest, but she shushed him softly and began emitting her ghostly glow, absorbing the sorrow that was weighing Derek down. When she released him, she didn't stumble. She only breathed deeply through her nose and blinked slowly, trying to compartmentalize these new feelings.

She crouched slowly at his feet, holding his gaze. She chewed on her words for a few moments before speaking. “I never stopped worrying about you.”

Derek’s eyebrows twitched slightly, and she carried on.

“Eight years went by and there wasn't a day you guys didn't cross my mind. I thought about how I’d missed all your graduations, how I’d bailed on you when you needed me most. I wondered if Laura’d ever pursued wildlife preservation, or if you’d gotten a scholarship for basketball.” She laughed softly, “I wondered if Peter’s pretty face that he loved so much was still handsome after the fire.” She shook her head softly. “I’m sorry, Derek.”

“No, Elizabeth, don’t…”

“I am. I know there’s nothing I could have done to stop this all from happening, but I wasn't there for you when you needed me most, and for that I’ll always be sorry.” She said earnestly, taking his hands in hers.

“I worried about you, too, you know.” Derek said softly.

“But you knew I could handle myself.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't sure if the world could handle you.” He quipped, and his mouth curved into a gentle smirk, and Elizabeth laughed.

“Derek, what happened to you?” She said after the laughter had died and Derek’s features had schooled themselves back into their cold indifference. “Why do you shut people out?”

“You really need to ask? Look what happened the last time I let someone in!” Derek said.

Elizabeth shook her head, “Don’t do that. Don’t punish yourself for her actions, Derek. Don’t punish the people who care about you because you’re afraid of being tricked again. You think Scott’s trying to kill you? I don’t think the boy could swat a fly without apologizing.” Elizabeth replied, searching Derek’s face for any indication that he was taking what she was saying to heart. “Isaac and Erica? They adore you! They look at you the way Cora used to, you know.”

“They live to embarrass me, Zab.” Derek retorted.

“And we didn't?” Elizabeth fired back, obviously referring to the terrors that had been her and his sisters. “What about Stiles?” Elizabeth offered, and for the first time she saw Derek’s face soften, if only marginally. “Stiles: who trusts you beyond the shadow of a doubt? Who’s loyal to you? Who would risk his own life to keep you safe, and has proven that?” Elizabeth nudged Derek’s knee with their clasped hands. “Don’t you think you owe it to these kids to show them that beneath all this bravado, you’re just as fond of them as they are of you?”

Derek eyed her skeptically. “They think I’m a machine.”

“With good reason.” Elizabeth said shortly. “So show ‘em you’re not. Do more at pack meetings than sit here and discuss the problem of the week. They’re teenagers, buy ‘em a pizza and they’ll like you. Throw on a movie. Talk to ‘em, Der. They see you like a big brother, and some of ‘em don’t have anyone else to look up to. Give ‘em something worth lookin’ at.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at her. “Have you been rehearsing that speech?”

Elizabeth laughed, “No, surprisingly that was all improvised.”

“Well, it was convincing.” Derek said finally, slowly nodding his head. “You've had worse ideas.”

“You could always just tell me I’m brilliant, that would work too, y’know.”

“Wouldn't want all that power to go to your head.” He said softly, nudging her out of the way so he could stand. “It’s getting late, we should get to bed. I’m taking you down to the station tomorrow to see if Stiles’s dad can’t get you enrolled in school again.”

Elizabeth’s face lit up, “You mean I’d be going back?”

Derek grimaced at her, “You’re the only person I know who would be excited at the thought of going back to high school.”

Elizabeth was bouncing behind Derek as he walked toward the couch. “Are you kidding, high school was the best! And I’d be with the pack, not to mention closer to Stiles, so if anything goes wrong I’ll be right there to help him!”

“My thoughts exactly.” Derek said as he grudgingly arranged a few blankets and pillows on the couch. He only looked up when Elizabeth continued to shuffle around in front of him instead of retreating to his bed. “What?”

“Um, not to put you out or anything, but… Do you mind sleeping in the bed with me?” She asked nervously. “It’s just… I've had these nightmares ever since the fire and…”

“I get them, too.” Derek said gently, and he picked up the blankets he’d just arranged and brought them to his bed.

They both climbed into bed, shifting around to get comfortable. “If only Laura could see us now.” Elizabeth said.

“She always held out hope for us, you know.” Derek said with a laugh. “That somehow you’d come around, and I’d stop seeing you like a little sister, and we’d run off and elope and she’d finally be able to call you her sister.”

“She was my sister. I didn't need to marry her snot-nosed little brother to call her that.” She said, flicking Derek’s chest before turning away from him to rest on her side.

After a few more moments of silence, Derek spoke into the darkness. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

It was the first night in eight years that Elizabeth didn't wake up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I'd just like to start by thanking you guys for you kind words and support!
> 
> I wanted to work on Elizabeth and Derek's dynamic in this chapter, and I think you've obviously seen the shift in Elizabeth and Peter's. I wanted Derek to be vulnerable with someone again without having that person turn on them, but i tried to keep him as begrudgingly honest as possible so as to stay in line with his character.
> 
> Thank you again for your support, comments are welcome and all mistakes are my own, so feel free to have at it in the comments!


	7. The Curly Fry Conundrum

The next morning found Derek slurping moodily at his black coffee while Sheriff Stilinski and Elizabeth exchanged excited pleasantries after a loud and enthusiastic reunion. They’d woken up at seven so as to catch the Sheriff before he became immersed in his work, but they’d spent an hour and a half grumbling at each other that it was the other’s turn to hit the snooze button.

It went without saying that they didn't get to the station until 10:30, each nursing a large cup of coffee.

Upon seeing Elizabeth, the Sheriff had set down the document he was holding and slipped his gold frame glasses from his face, squinting to get a better look at her beaming face. When it became apparent that this wasn't a trick of the light, he’d rounded the desk and swept her into a tight hug, clapping her on the back and welcoming her back to Beacon Hills.

“I was thinking I’d never get to thank you for the doughnut, how did you know jelly filled was my favorite?” He’d asked when he’d finally let her go.

“Because I noticed that I didn't get doughnuts on Jelly Days.” She said smartly.

“We ought to put you on the force.” Sheriff Stilinski said warmly, returning to his seat behind the desk and gesturing for Derek and Elizabeth to follow suit. “Derek, how’re you doing, son?”

“I’m well, sir, thank you. And yourself?” Derek said pleasantly. 

He and the Sheriff had bonded during the hunt for the Nogitsune, and though Derek never vocalized it he sometimes felt just as desperate as John to have Stiles returned home safe and sound. He supposed that what they said about enemies of enemies being friends was true after all, because even after the Nogitsune was killed Derek and Sheriff Stilinski met every once and a while over TV dinners to discuss Stiles’s condition. This usually took place on nights that Stiles grudgingly accepted Scott’s invitations to play video games at his house as opposed to collecting dust in his room by himself. 

He and John often bounced ideas off of each other about how they could assist Stiles in his recovery, but until this moment they hadn't had a solution.

Now his solution was sitting cross-legged in the padded chair beside him, slurping loudly at her mocha-frappe-cappa-whatever.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” The Sheriff asked after tucking away the open files and folding his hands on his desk.

“Well, Sheriff—“ Derek began.

“I told you to call me John, Derek.”

“John…” Derek began again, “It’s clear that you already know my friend Elizabeth…”

“I do indeed…” The Sheriff said with slight skepticism. “Where is this headed?”

“He’s getting there, I’m sure.” Elizabeth said.

“You know the talks we've been having lately?” Derek said pointedly, fixing John with a meaningful look. He wanted to avoid telling Elizabeth just how invested he was in Stiles’s recovery. He had a feeling that if he told her, she’d just read too far into it. She’d think something crazy, like that Derek was so concerned about Stiles because he actually liked the kid, or had feelings for him or something, both options being absolutely ridiculous, of course.

“I do.” John said gravely. “Have you got something for me?”

“I do.” Derek mimicked, and then gestured to Elizabeth sitting in her chair. Elizabeth perked up and smiled wide, pointing both thumbs at herself.

Sheriff Stilinski looked dumb struck. “I don’t follow. Are you suggesting we set Stiles up with Elizabeth, because I've got to say, I don’t think girls are what he needs right now…”

Elizabeth gagged a little, quickly clarifying the situation. She explained to John what she truly was, which John took in stride. At this point he couldn't even look at the mailman without assuming that he sprouted wings as soon as he’d delivered his last letter and was behind closed doors. Nothing really came as a surprise to him anymore.

“So you’re telling me that you could just…suck the sad right out of him?” John asked slowly.

Elizabeth shrugged, “In simple terms, yeah.”

The Sheriff seemed to weigh his options, and realizing he didn't have many, he nodded his head. “Alright, it’s worth a shot, right?”

Elizabeth beamed in her seat.

It was that moment that Stiles bound into the office holding his father’s lunch box, and whatever nonsense he was babbling about packing fat free Thousand Island Dressing and a couple of wet wipes died in his throat when he became aware of the two guests in his father’s office. “Oh!” He squeaked. “Hey guys!”

“Hey Stiles!” Elizabeth replied cheerfully.

Derek gave a curt nod, not trusting himself to respond in the face of Stiles’s current case of extreme bed head that had him looking more rumpled than usual, like he’d spent a night with hands in his hair, or pushed into a mattress, or…

“Sheriff Stilinski, I brought you those—Derek?” A fifth voice joined the conversation, and Derek looked past Stiles to see one of the Sheriff’s deputies who looked startlingly familiar to him.

Every set of eyes in the room fell on him as they waited for his response. The best he could muster was a slightly confused. “Hello?”

The deputy chuckled softly. “Sorry, it’s been a while, and I don’t look much like I did in high school. It’s Parish. Kyle?” Deputy Parish introduced himself, and Derek noticed that there was a faint blush drifting across his pale skin.

Elizabeth’s jaw dropped and her head slowly turned toward Derek. Christmas Day had come early in Beacon Hills.

Or, in Derek’s case, the End of Days had begun.

“Right, right.” Derek said, attempting to keep this as casual as possible.

“Who’d have thought that we’d still be in Beacon Hills, right?” Deputy Parish said bashfully, slowly sauntering a little closer to Derek with an easy smile on his face. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

“Stiles…” Elizabeth said slyly, waggling her eyebrows at Derek. “Why don’t you show me where the vending machines are? I’m famished.”

“I’m sure Parish here could help you.” Stiles said, his voice uncharacteristically hard, so much so that Elizabeth visibly flinched that their unexpected harshness. “He works here after all.”

“You’ve been coming here since you could walk…” His father said, looking at Stiles like he’d gone crazy.

Derek cleared his throat and answered Parish, who was looking at him expectantly. “Oh, yeah, well, I was out there for a while, but there’s no place like home. You know?”

The Deputy laughed easily, and Derek could say that he found the man attractive. Derek found himself drawn to the pale skin, bright eyes, chestnut hair, full bodied laugh…

“Well Dad, it’s like I was saying before I was interrupted…” Stiles said loudly, far too loudly to be acceptable in a room this small with people standing this close together. “There’s a salad in here,” Stiles lifted the lunch bag and plopped it on the desk, “couple of wipes, dressing, I even tossed in some peanut butter to go with the apple in there, if you’re interested.” 

The Sheriff looked completely uninterested.

Deputy Parish, however, seemed very interested in this series of events.

“Y’know Sheriff, that burger joint down the street just opened up. Heard they make mean curly fries. I could pick some up for you if you’d like. I was just headed over there myself.”

The look of desperation in the Sheriff’s eyes was almost heartbreaking, and Derek felt for the man, but no matter how many times that Derek told Stiles that his father’s heart was perfectly healthy, the stubborn boy wouldn't believe him. “Thanks, Parish, but I’d better stick to the leaves.” He said sadly.

“No problem.” He said cheerily. His attention shifted to Derek. “Would you like to join me instead?”

Oh, that was _smooth_. Derek mouthed wordlessly for a moment, completely baffled at just how slick that recovery was.

Stiles wasn't rendered nearly as speechless.

“Don’t you think it’s a little insensitive to be eating that crap while your boss is on a diet?” He snapped.

Deputy Parish looked genuinely surprised, shifting his gaze from Derek to Stiles. “I’m sorry?”

The Sheriff looked just as surprised, “Stiles, it’s not a big deal really.”

Elizabeth tried once again, but this time her voice held a suspicious tone, as if she was testing something. “Stiles, sweetie, please, I’m starving here.”

Stiles quickly gestured from her to Parish several times, “Look, Parish, there you go: a starving young lady in need of a good meal! Why don’t you take her, Derek and I will catch up in a bit? Anyone could tell you I’m a sucker for curly fries.”

Elizabeth looked slowly from Stiles to Parish, and shrugged when the Deputy’s eyes met her own.

The Deputy looked torn, but agreed to Stiles’s plan. Elizabeth slowly rose from her chair, looking between Derek and Stiles with the wheels turning inside of her head. Anyone who knew Elizabeth knew that expression meant that she was working hard to figure out what was really going on. “Later, guys. Great to see you again, Sheriff!” She called over her shoulder as she led the way out of the office.

Parish hung back, leaning closer to Derek. “It was great to see you again, Derek. Come around more often, alright?”

Derek was awestruck, but nodded meekly in response. The Deputy shot him a megawatt smile and winked, following Elizabeth through the door.

Stiles rolled his eyes and plopped into Elizabeth’s vacated seat. “What is with that guy, huh? He comes out of nowhere, and suddenly he thinks he can just invite you out for curly fries?” Stiles asked, and although he was speaking to his father, a small voice inside of Derek told him that maybe he was referring to Derek as well.

He slapped duct tape over that particular voice’s mouth.

“Son, I’m gonna be honest with you, you were incredibly rude, Parish has been nothing but—“

“Okay, you know what, forget him. Forget Parish. What were you guys talking about before I got here?”

The Sheriff eyed him for a few more moments before sighing. “We were discussing the idea of Elizabeth helping you out with your recovery.”

“Oh! Cool! So you’re alright with it?” Stiles asked.

His father nodded, “Derek here highly recommends her.”

“Yeah, no, she’s great. Did she happen to mention anything…else…about me?” Stiles asked nervously.

“Stiles, maybe now isn't the best time…” Derek tried, but the ball was already rolling.

“What else would she have to tell me, Stiles?” John asked, eyeing his son warily.

Stiles tried several times to choose the right words, but he ended up deciding that being blunt was the best idea. “I’m a wizard, Dad.”

John looked utterly bewildered. “Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?”

Stiles looked to Derek for backup. “It’s true; Derek was there when she told me! She can like, sense it inside of me or whatever!”

“Stiles, aren't there supposed to be signs, or something?” His father asked.

“Not necessarily, sir.” Derek chimed in.

“She said she’d help train me to use my powers!” Stiles said excitedly. “I bet she knows how to do all sorts of cool shit—“

“Language, Stiles.”

“Cool stuff, whatever. Point being, I’m magic, and I figured I should tell you before I blow the chimney off the house or something.” Stiles finished, looking slightly sheepish.

“Could you do that?” John asked nervously, and Derek could already tell he was stressing about the impending spike in his home owner’s insurance. Derek smiled wryly at the thought that Stiles would most likely give his father a heart attack before any greasy food had the chance to.

“Who knows?” Stiles said flippantly.

John didn't look half as relaxed about this entire ordeal as Stiles did. “As long as you stay far, far away from my house…”

“They can use my loft, if that would help.” Derek offered. That morning Elizabeth had asked if having Stiles over a few days a week to train would be alright with Derek, and Derek’s heart definitely didn't stutter at the thought of Stiles spending more time around the loft than usual. He’d agreed just a fraction of a second too quickly, but Elizabeth didn't seem to notice.

“Derek, no, I couldn't let you do that. Who knows what he’s gonna do?” The Sheriff said, and Stiles’s jaw dropped in indignation.

“Really, John, it’s not a problem.” Derek assured, “But I was wondering if you could do me a favor as well?”

John tensed, “What kind of favor? Do I have to help hide a body again, Derek, because I’m telling you goblin or not that was just plain—“

“Elizabeth…” Derek began, cutting John off and probably saving him from another spike in his blood pressure, “will need to be re-enrolled in the high school this year. That way she can keep an eye on Stiles in school.”

“Oh!” The Sheriff said, visibly relaxing. “Yeah, yeah. Of course. That’s not a problem, Derek.”

Derek gave him his thanks and was getting ready to leave when Stiles piped up from the chair beside him. “Did you want to go meet Elizabeth and that guy for fries?” He asked, and Derek didn't miss the disdain in his voice.

“His name is Deputy Parish, Stiles, you know this. You liked him the last time you were in here…” John said.

“Yeah, well, that was then, Dad.” Stiles said, and Derek could sense his mounting agitation. Whatever Deputy Parish did to deserve this treatment from Stiles, Derek would have to be sure to avoid making that same mistake.

“You said you wanted curly fries, we could meet them there, if you’d like.” Derek offered, and from his side he could hear Sheriff Stilinski’s stomach give a feeble grumble. The poor guy.

Stiles’s face brightened, “We, you mean us, go meet them? Together? Yeah, man, let’s go!”

***

Derek didn't know what he’d expected, but it wasn't Stiles glaring at Parish with two cheeks stuffed full of curly fries, chewing like a savage while he grilled the poor deputy who was trying to look anywhere but the heated gaze. Derek was trying to get a feel on Stiles’s emotions, but all he was picking up was anger and agitation, and just a bit of something else that Derek couldn't place, and that was nothing that Derek couldn't already read all over the boy’s face.

Elizabeth was dutifully trying to stir up conversation between Stiles and the group, but he seemed perfectly content to sit there shoveling fries in his mouth and making Parish steadily more uncomfortable as time passed.

Derek wasn't being much of a help either, giving short responses to both Elizabeth and Kyle’s attempts at conversation. It wasn't that he was ignoring them, he was just so tuned into Stiles that he didn't have the ability to do two things at once, and figuring out Stiles’s problem was a higher priority than playing catch up.

The tension finally seemed to boil over when Elizabeth brought up how Parish had asked Derek to the Winter Formal all those years ago.

“I asked and was rejected, if I recall correctly.” Parish said, blushing as he sipped from his milkshake.

Stiles huffed out a laugh.

Derek blushed high in his ears at the memory. Parish had asked him to the Winter Formal while he was still wallowing in his Post-Paige-Depression, and despite being right up Derek’s alley, he couldn’t find it within himself to accept.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Bad timing, you know?” Derek said in his defense.

“Oh yeah, I get it, totally.” The deputy said, and suddenly he took great interest in the path of the water droplet that was sliding down his glass. “But I’ve gotta ask, is the timing any better now?” His eyes flicked to Derek and he gave him a shy smile.

Elizabeth looked ready to burst with happiness.

Stiles looked ready to burst with something.

“It’s um, it’s certainly…not awful?” Derek offered, because he really didn't know how to respond. Dating had been off the table for him ever since Jeniffer, but Parish had grown up well and he’d been incredibly accepting of what he was—what they all were—when John finally filled the poor, clueless deputy in on exactly what fresh Hell had awoken in Beacon Hills. He didn't exactly seem like a homicidal sociopath, but then again, neither had Miss. Blake or Kate, but he liked to believe that perhaps the universe was done handing him psychopaths on a silver platter.

“Not awful…” The deputy repeated with a thoughtful nod. “I can work with that.”

Derek was suddenly overwhelmingly aware of the spike in agitation radiating from the boy next to him. He turned to see Stiles’s hand paused halfway between his plate and his mouth, curly fries slipping from between his fingers. If looks could kill, Parish would be dead on the ground before he could ever finish the milkshake that he was now sipping at contentedly.

“Well, Derek, I think we should get going.” Elizabeth said. The look in her eyes said that she was dying to scream about this in the Camaro the second the doors were shut, and he rolled his eyes at the thought of a twenty minute drive with no way of escaping from her barrage of questions.

“Really, so soon?” Parish asked, and Derek thought he heard a dark grumble from Stiles’s side of the booth that sounded something like ‘Not soon enough.’

They cleared the booth, but before they could make their way to the door, Parish took a pen from his pocket and scribbled his number onto a napkin and handed it to Derek, blushing heavily when he told him that he could feel free to call any time if they wanted to do this again, just the two of them.

Derek just gaped at him and nodded, and behind him he could almost feel Elizabeth’s repressed squeal.

“What, were we not good company?” Stiles asked bitterly, which was funny, because Derek was pretty sure that Stiles had spent the past half hour making sure he was the worst company known to man.

Parish looked startled for a moment before shaking his head, “No, no, it’s nothing like that.”

Stiles scoffed and pushed passed him, making for the door with the rest of their company following close behind. They split up at their cars, and just as he predicted, Elizabeth was positively yelling about “FATE!” and “TRUE LOVE!” and how it was all “MEANT TO BE, DEREK!”

Derek fixed her with a warning glare as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“Come on Derek, what are the odds that he’d still be in Beacon Hills? I saw the way you used to look at him, you can’t fool me! And now he’s hot! And you’re hot! Don’t hot people usually hang out in packs?” She cried, gesticulating wildly in the passenger seat while Derek did his best to ignore her. “Are you going to talk to him again? Are you gonna follow up on that date?”

Derek managed to evade every one of her questions, maintaining a stony silence until he pulled into the station alongside Stiles’s Jeep. When the boy got out he left without a word and only managed a weak wave after he slammed the door behind him. Derek was still able to hear him after he got in his car, however, and listened as Stiles grumbled angrily about pretty boy deputies and their smooth pick-up lines.

“Did he seem off to you today?” Elizabeth said, vocalizing the thought running through Derek’s mind.

“If by off you mean completely out of it, yeah, I noticed that, too.”

Elizabeth just shrugged and chalked it up as teen angst before reaching forward and scanning the radio until she found the classic hits station, turning it up as Robert Plant crooned through the speakers. 

Derek didn't let it go so easily, and it continued to bother him long after they arrived home.

***

Stiles sulked in his bed from the time he arrived home from the station until Scott banged down his door at seven. He’d moodily glared at the ceiling for the entire time between the two events and contemplated sticking a picture of Deputy Dimples up there so he could toss darts at it.

If he was being honest with himself he could admit that Deputy Parish wasn't actually the asshole that he had built him up to be in his head. In fact, yesterday the dude had seemed pretty cool; he even offered Stiles tickets to see The 1975 when they came around in the spring. It wasn't until today that Stiles had a malicious thought about the deputy.

Knowing that Derek apparently hit for both teams frazzled his mind so thoroughly that he hadn't truly understood the implications of Parish’s advances until he was asking Derek out for curly fries. Parish was a great guy: he was brave, smart, and good looking if you were into that sort of thing. Stiles liked to believe that he and the deputy looked a lot alike, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. He was built better than Stiles, his face wasn't marked with moles, and he had a strong jaw that made him look mature despite his baby face.

Stiles was still trying to work on growing facial hair, never mind anything else about his boyish looks.

He didn't know why he really cared, Derek was free to date whoever he wanted, and after the likes of Jeniffer and Kate, Derek deserved to be with someone like Deputy Parish. Stiles just didn't like the idea of someone else coming into the pack so suddenly.

 _You didn't mind when Elizabeth came in…_ A voice in his head told him. It sounded like Scott’s voice.

 _Yeah, that’s because she doesn't want to bone Derek…_ Came the response in a voice that reminded him of Erica. Figures, even in his head she was dirty minded.

 _Don’t be an ass, Stiles. It’s not like Mr. Man-Pain is seriously going to date him..._ A Lydia-like voice said, and before Jackson showed up to call him a little bitch for moping about it, Stiles shook his head and pretended that he wasn't talking to himself.

But Lydia-voice was right. Derek hadn't so much as gotten coffee with anyone since the Jeniffer disaster and Stiles would bet that he was going to go through at least another year of self-hatred before he was ready to get back into the dating ring.

 _Another year and you’ll be legal!_ Jesus, Erica!

He wasn't going there. Or rather, he should say he wasn't going there ever again. After their initial meeting, Derek had turned Stiles’s world on its ass. Strawberry blonde curls became short, dark tresses and porcelain skin darkened into miles of tanned flesh. For months Stiles had danced around Derek in the wake of this bizarre sexual awakening. If the pack noticed, they remained silent, but then again back then it was just him, Scott, Lydia, Allison, Jackson, and Derek, and no one except Scott was likely to breach the topic of sexuality with him, and even then Scott was usually a reluctant participant in Stiles’s musings.

He kept it pretty well under wraps, and the secret stayed between him and the tissue box he kept by his bed more and more frequently as Derek’s shirts became a rarity.

Eventually his attraction faded into the same dull lust that he’d held for Lydia: always lurking under the surface but never managing to break through. That didn't mean he particularly enjoyed watching pretty boy cops try to edge their way into Derek’s life.

Stiles pouted some more after Scott left, and continued to wallow in his misery until he got a text from Derek.

_**SOURWOLF:** Zab wants you to come over tomorrow for training_

Stiles reread the text twice before responding. 

_**STILES:** What time?_

Stiles didn't have to wait long for the response, though once he read it, he wished he hadn’t. 

_**SOURWOLF:** 8 AM_

Stiles dropped his phone and groaned, pulling a pillow over his face in an attempt to smother himself. He pulled the pillow from his face when he felt his phone buzz with another text. 

_**SOURWOLF:** Quit complaining and tell me if you’re coming or not_

Stiles huffed out a laugh before replying. 

_**STILES:** I’ll be there. Why, you got a hot date or something?_

_**STILES:** Parish, perhaps?_

Stiles sincerely tried not to sound bitter, but apparently it didn't work. 

_**SOURWOLF:** You jealous? _

Stiles was thankful Derek couldn't see the flush rising on his neck. 

_**STILES:** Of course not. Parish isn't your type._

_**SOURWOLF:** How so?_

_**STILES:** He’s not trying to kill us. _

Stiles laughed at himself before slipping his phone onto his nightstand and curling up beneath his covers. Any minute now Kira would arrive to stand watch, but she’d find Stiles already asleep with a content smile on his face, his phone blinking with a text notification. 

_**SOURWOLF:** You’re an ass._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to post another chapter for today, this one focusing on the relationship between Derek and Stiles, so I hope I did them justice!
> 
> ALSO Hot Deputy aka Deputy Parish is so important to me may he live on forever.
> 
> I may be doing some ratings changes in the near future, as a warning.
> 
> Comments are appreciated, and I love hearing from you guys. Let me know about any mistakes you find! Thanks!!!


	8. Training

Stiles entered the loft and was ambushed before he even made it to the steps.

“Stiles!” Elizabeth cried, materializing out of thin air before him and causing him to stumble backwards, tripping over his own feet and tumbling into the arms of…Elizabeth, who had popped into existence behind him just in time to catch him. “Sorry, pal! Derek needs to get me a bell or something!” She chuckled as she righted him on his feet. She walked ahead of him and motioned him into the loft which was now transformed into Wizard Boot Camp, as she called it.

Any furniture that had once had cushions had been stripped bare before his arrival and the pillows were now placed on the floor like make shift mats, and Stiles really hoped that they weren't for catching his body because he bruised like a peach. 

He said as much to Elizabeth and she smiled sympathetically at him, which told him all he needed to know about the state his body would be in after today.

He’d thought about leaving this loft in pain, but he’d been hoping it would be the good hurt as opposed to the I-Don’t-Want-To-Move-Ever-Again kind of hurt that was in store for him.

“Don’t worry, fighting won’t come until later, I promise!” Elizabeth reassured and for the time being Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. “We’re gonna start small with some basic magic: levitation, telekinesis, some basic spells and curses. Does that sound good to you?”

Stiles nodded the affirmative and Elizabeth gave him her megawatt smile.

They burned through their entire Saturday morning preparing Stiles to preform basic magic. Preparation meant several things; chief among them being the discovery of what drove Stiles. When he’d thrown her a curious glance she’d rolled her eyes and clarified. 

“When you’re down and out, and it looks like there’s no hope, what keeps you fighting?”

Stiles paused and thought this over, taking a time-out to contemplate this thoroughly because he was under the impression that it would be very important. 

What kept him fighting? He thought back to the countless times he’d found himself sprinting through the woods with The Monster of the Week riding his ass and breathing down his neck. Something had clearly kept his legs moving long after the ache of his muscles had become unbearable, so what was it?

He remembered thinking, in those moments, of his father at home. When his dad wasn't working on hunt nights he was usually camped out in the recliner facing the door, staring into the entryway until Stiles returned. While running for his life he always found time to think of his father and imagine the look on his face when instead of Stiles, Scott would come bursting through the door with terrible news: Stiles hadn't run fast enough, Stiles hadn't dug deep enough, poor defenseless Stiles had gotten chewed up and spit back out and now John was all alone in the world.

Yeah, that drove him pretty hard. 

He also frequently found himself thinking of his friends in times of distress. When the clock was running out and lives were on the line he tended to push that extra mile with Scott’s voice in his head. Scott would always be cheering Stiles on with his infinite optimism, pushing him to ‘Figure it out, Stiles! You've got this!’ 

Sometimes he’d see Lydia in his mind’s eye, and she’d grab him by the shoulders and hold his attention with a wide eyed stare. She’d guide him through the situation logically; her beautiful mind providing him with a voice of reason in times of chaos.

And then there was Derek.

Derek usually came to mind when Stiles was on the edge of blacking out. He’d either be suffering from sleep deprivation in his room while poring over his tenth consecutive bestiary or he’d be succumbing to his own mortality after taking a brutal beating from some creature; either way it was always Derek who appeared in his subconscious. The scene was always the same: Stiles was the one lying broken in an elevator shaft, his body limp and unmoving in the flickering florescent lights. Derek would drop to his side and shake him, shout his name, screaming for him to wake up. Stiles would wake up every time, and his fire was fueled once more and he pulled through.

All these things considered, Stiles felt he had a pretty good idea of what drove him.

“I’m driven by this…primal need to survive and to be useful. To prove myself.” Stiles said seriously, and Elizabeth nodded rigorously.

“Good Stiles, good! That’s an awesome start!” She said excitedly.

“What’s your drive?” Stiles asked quickly before the subject could change.

“A primal need to defend what’s mine.” She said, equally as serious as Stiles had been.

Stiles nodded slowly, “Alright, so what now?”

“Now you take your drive and you harness it, use it like an extension of your body.” Elizabeth said airily.

Stiles’s face twisted in confusion. 

Elizabeth acknowledged his distress with a laugh. “Okay, alright. Think of what you want to do, and then let your drive fill your body. Feel that primal need from your feet to your head and straight into your fingertips. Let it consume you, Stiles. That’s how your magic manifests.” She explained.

Stiles nodded, catching her drift. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the feeling he got when he was running from danger. Concentrating on the voices of those who mattered most to him, letting the urge to prove himself to be more than the token human overpower his senses. When he opened his eyes again they were glowing a bright amber color; his eyes had been set ablaze like molten copper. 

“Thatta boy, Stiles! Hold on to that!” Elizabeth cried, clapping her hands. “Now, see that candle stick over there?” She asked, gesturing to the candle stick sitting on the table across the room. “Bring it to you!”

Stiles focused his energy on the candle stick and with all the strength inside of him; he willed the candle to come to him. Sure enough it flew across the room into his extended hand. In his excitement he lost his concentration and his amber light faded, but he was too busy waving the candle stick in front of Elizabeth’s elated face to care much.

“You did it! Incredible! Amazing, Stiles!” Elizabeth cheered, bringing him into a tight hug and bouncing up and down happily.

“What’s all this noise about?” Peter asked, padding down the stairs and heading for the kitchen.

Elizabeth’s joy diminished slightly at the appearance of their guest, but she quickly recovered. “I’m training Stiles to harness his magic. He just preformed basic telekinesis.” Elizabeth explained.

“How exciting, but would it kill you to keep it down?” Peter said blandly.

Elizabeth was about to cut him down with a scathing retort but was distracted when Derek trotted down the stairs. “Derek, guess what!”

“I don’t like guessing, Zab.” Derek said.

“Stiles just preformed telekinesis on his first try!” She informed him, and Stiles blushed three shades of red, muttering about how it wasn't that impressive. “He’s being modest, it was very impressive.”

“Care to show off?” Derek asked and Stiles took a moment to register the fact that he was talking to him. He was caught up in the fact that Derek had come from the library with a cup of tea in his hand wearing nothing but loose fitting sweatpants.

And that was it.

“I think you’re showing off enough for the entire room, Der. Care to put a shirt on?” Elizabeth asked.

Stiles wished she hadn't, but it was probably for the best. If his concentration was off he ran a serious risk of doing some accidental demolition on Derek’s loft.

So for now he watched mournfully as Derek shrugged and moved to his room to get dressed for the day.

“What do you say; you want to try moving something bigger?” Elizabeth asked.

Stiles grinned, “What do you have in mind?”

“Well, I was thinking we could try some defensive telekinesis, if you’re interested.”

“Let’s give it a shot!” Stiles said.

Elizabeth explained that defensive telekinesis turned objects that were coming towards them in the opposite direction and could be used offensively as well depending on what was coming at them. She began the lesson by tossing tennis balls at Stiles and watching as he batted them out of the air with flashes of amber light. She showered him with praises as she picked up the speed and hardness of her throws, barraging Stiles until she ran out of balls and Stiles was left heaving with excursion. She threw one last ball his way and at the last minute he fired it straight back at her. It stopped just before crashing into her nose, suddenly immersed in a while light before disappearing completely.

“That was great, Stiles, really impressive!”

“I agree, Stilinski.” Peter said casually from his place in the kitchen. “I’m genuinely impressed.”

“Peter, since you seem so keen on making comments, why don’t you help with the next lesson?” Elizabeth said coolly, and Stiles was highly aware of the tension between the two. He assumed that Derek had dropped the Laura Bomb and that Elizabeth had reacted how everyone assumed she would: badly.

“You know I’m always happy to help, my dear.” Peter said with fake sincerity. Stiles secretly hoped that this lesson involved using magic to hum tennis balls at Peter’s smug face.

“Offensive telekinesis,” Elizabeth stated, “is when you purposefully move an object at your opponent or…” and now she made dead eye contact with Peter as he moved to stand across from her a safe distance across the room, “it’s when you move their physical presence with your power.”

“Lizzy, you know I love when you push me around.” Peter drawled, but the smirk was wiped from his face when a swarm of ten or so tennis balls suddenly soared his way. 

“I want you to keep practicing on moving targets, so I’m gonna have Peter here run at you, and you’re going to try to push him back as hard as you can, understand?” Elizabeth asked.

Stiles nodded.

“I’ll go first, alright? Just to show you how it’s done?”

Stiles gave her his consent to go ahead but he felt that she just wanted an excuse to rock Peter to his ass; which she did, brutally, several times before stepping back and let Stiles try his hand.

Peter was rubbing his “aching ass”, as he eloquently called it, when Derek reemerged from his room in dark jeans and a fitted black Henley. If Stiles was being honest with himself he was no less distracted than he was before, which is why he missed what Derek was saying and only tuned back in when he noticed that Peter was no longer standing in front of him because his nephew had taken his place and was now staring at Stiles challengingly.

“Wait, what?” Stiles asked, shaking his head to clear his mind.

“Grandpa over there couldn't take the heat so he went back to the kitchen.” Elizabeth explained, “Derek’s gonna help out now. Personally, I think this is better. You should be more comfortable with Derek, knowing he’ll stop when he gets too close. You’ll stop, won’t you Der?”

Derek just laughed, which was unsettling.

“Alright Stiles, just find your drive and let it act like a force around you. Don’t let him inside of that force, protect yourself. Prove yourself, alright?” Elizabeth asked.

Stiles looked at her nervously. “He’s gonna stop right?” He whispered.

Elizabeth looked unsure, “I mean…probably?”

“Oh God.” Stiles whispered as he turned back to the man in question.

“Come on Stiles, impress me.” Derek said tauntingly, squatting down into an attack position.

Stiles matched him, spreading his legs shoulder width apart as he braced his hands in front of him. He ignored the stuttering of his heart and focused on his energy, letting it bubble up inside of him and focus itself entirely on Derek.

The wolf’s eyes flashed blue before Derek took off toward Stiles in a dead sprint. Elizabeth cautioned him to be careful, but Stiles figured Derek ignored her because he was showing no sign of slowing down. As hard as Stiles tried, his fear was overwhelming his focus, and after a few feeble sparks of amber light that just rolled off Derek’s shoulders, the wolf was on him, lifting him off the ground and spinning him into the air with a surprised and undignified, “Eep!”.

Stiles found himself on his back in a pile of pillows a moment later, his head spinning and his body covered by a shaking weight. After a moment he realized it was Derek who was chuckling as Elizabeth berated him for not being gentle.

Stiles was indignant, shoving at Derek and calling for a do over before his head had even stopped spinning. He was doing his best to ignore the way Derek’s body felt pressed against his because if he dwelled on it, he’d reach the conclusion that it wasn't as unpleasant as he wished it would be. 

“You sure you can handle it?” Derek asked smugly, his face looming over Stiles with a boyish grin that lit up his dark features. To say Stiles was gob smacked was an understatement. From here he could see the kaleidoscope of colors in Derek’s eyes that were glinting in mischief and he could practically taste the green tea lingering on Derek’s lips and tongue. He knew he must look ridiculous, lying there like a gaping fish, but he couldn't find it within him to move.

“Yeah, I can take it.” Stiles said breathlessly, and for a moment he thought he saw Derek’s eyes grow a fraction wider and flick down to his lips, but in the next moment Derek was rearing back on his haunches and standing, offering Stiles a hand in order to get up. He crossed the room and crouched once again, this time staring intently at Elizabeth.

“Now, Derek, when I say be gentle I mean it! The boy’s a peach!” Elizabeth reprimanded, but the look in Derek’s eyes when they met Stiles’ said that once again, he was ignoring her. He gave the boy a playful smirk before charging him again.

This time, Stiles was ready. He wanted to knock that stupid smirk off of Derek’s annoyingly good looking face. He felt the magic surge inside of him, repressing the fear and the doubt and allowing the energy inside of himself to course into his fingertips as he held a hand out before him. A bright flash of amber light cut through the air, and Derek was sent hurdling across the room with a grunt, banging off the wall and dropping to the ground on his knees.

“Nice one, Stiles!” Elizabeth cheered. “You alright, Der?”

Derek gave a grunt of confirmation before lifting his head to look at Stiles, and he was able to recognize a challenge when he saw one. “You wanna go again, Sourwolf?”

Derek laughed and dusted himself off before growling low in his throat. He charged at Stiles again, dodging the amber light that Stiles sent his way. He was closing in when Stiles dove aside, letting Derek skid right by him and stumble a bit. Capitalizing on his imbalance, Stiles flicked his wrist and sent Derek soaring into the sliding door of the loft, holding him there with an open palm, watching him struggle against invisible restraints.

“Awesome!” Elizabeth cried breathlessly, clapping quickly and dancing on the spot.

“Let me go.” Derek hissed.

Stiles chuckled and shrugged, “I don’t know Der. I think I might keep you there for a while.”

“Let me down and I’ll go easy on you.” Derek offered, which just made Stiles laugh harder.

“I’m sorry; I thought that’s what you were doing?” Stiles fired back, dropping his palm which allowed Derek to slump away from the door. His eyes were glowing again and his fangs were extending.

“Alright guys, why don’t we just call it a day?” Elizabeth said. She sounded nervous, as if she could sense the tension mounting in the air.

“No, no, Lizzy. This is just getting good!” Peter called from the kitchen.

Derek circled Stiles with a cocky smirk stretched across his face. Stiles was feeling breathless and electric under the attention. He wondered if Derek was in control of his movements, or if this was the wolf coming out to play. Either way it made Stiles head swim.

Derek made a sudden pass at him, and Stiles was late on the uptake, barely able to manifest the slightest bit of magic before Derek had him by the shoulders and was picking him up again only to pin him to the floor, looming over him with a victorious grin once again.

“Not so tough now, huh?” He ribbed with a smile and Stiles quirked an eyebrow and smirked in response.

“It’s not over yet.” He bit out, shifting his hands just enough to send Derek soaring off of him and flailing into another pile of pillows. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted to where Derek was pushing himself free of the pillows. Before the wolf could get too far, Stiles extended his hand and sent Derek’s body slamming back into the pillows, his body prone beneath Stiles as he set his foot square in the middle of Derek’s chest. “Now it’s over.”

Derek’s hand reached out and clasped it around Stiles ankle, and Stiles took a moment to berate himself for leaving himself open to that before he let out a manly squeal as Derek jerked him down atop him before flipping them and holding a firm grip about Stiles’s throat. Stiles could feel the vaguest hint of claws, but he knew Derek would never use them on him. He just watched as Derek’s blazing blue eyes hung above him, radiating dominance. Stiles really didn't mind losing if this was the view.

“No. Now it’s over.” Derek growled.

“Alright, it’s over.” Stiles said breathlessly, his eyes darting about Derek’s face, waiting to see what he’d do next.

“It is indeed…” Peter said slyly from his place in the kitchen.

“Y’all want us to leave…or?” Elizabeth asked skeptically.

Derek barked out a laugh and stood up, this time leaving Stiles in the bed of pillows to fend for himself. “Don’t make it weird, Zab.”

Elizabeth just laughed and thanked Derek for helping before skipping over the Stiles’s side and kneeling in the pillows with him, congratulating him on a job well done and asking if he wanted to continue meeting every Saturday morning.

Stiles was torn, because one half of him would rather veg out on the couch like a normal teenager on a Saturday morning, but the other half of him didn't mind losing a few hours of sleep if it meant being tackled to the ground by Derek Hale in a thousand different ways.

He whined deep in his throat and agreed, groaning when Elizabeth squeezed him in a tight hug.

Just because he didn't mind being tossed around didn't mean his aching peach of a body felt the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to thank everyone once again for their kind words, it's awesome that you guys like this story so much!
> 
> Any thoughts you have, feel free to share them! Also feel free to correct me on any mistakes I made!
> 
> Thank you to everyone reading!!


	9. Emergency

August 31st crept up on the pack as the last weeks of summer vacation slipped away from them. That night the children and teenagers of Beacon Hills were throwing in the towel early so as to be ready for their dreaded morning wake up call.

Elizabeth sat on Derek’s bed, excitedly fanning out her school supplies around her as she sorted them by subject and color before tucking them into her backpack. 

The Sheriff had stealthily slipped her name in with this year’s graduating class and had placed her in all the basic courses so as to help her blend in as much as possible. He even finagled a way to ensure that she’d share gym with Scott and an art class with Stiles.

She may have been the only student in all of Beacon Hills who was excited to return to school.

She’d even gone to several outlets with Lydia, Erica, and Kira in order to build up on her abysmal closet. This, of course, had been Lydia’s idea after she’d seen the two meager piles of flannels and shorts that were sitting in the corner of Derek’s room that Elizabeth dared to call her wardrobe. Lydia had looked personally offended before offering to bring her along for a ‘Girls Day’. 

The boys had been left baffled, wondering how the girls could have gone from planning a strategy on how best to ambush a Siren to planning which stores to hit first. Lydia had made some backhanded comment about the simplicity of men before giving Elizabeth her number and telling her to text her and they’d set up a date.

 

Needless to say, Elizabeth and Lydia had butt heads all day. 

Lydia urged her to try more feminine styles, while Elizabeth gravitated toward soft flannels and cut offs. The pile of t-shirts that she’d placed on the counter of a quaint consignment shop in town had nearly given Lydia heart failure as she took in the tattered hem lines and weathered fabric. Elizabeth decided to pity her and bought two or three of the thirty seven dresses that Lydia had her try on, and that seemed to be good enough for Lydia, because after that she hardly batted an eyelash when Elizabeth picked up a pair of acid wash jeans that had more holes in them than she cared to count.

The day reminded Elizabeth of how she, Laura, and Cora used to spend endless hours haunting the Beacon Hills Mall. Laura hadn't pressured Elizabeth into buying anything, and sometimes Laura would even deem something Elizabeth picked out worthy enough that she’d buy it as well. It was this memory that Elizabeth was mulling over when Lydia gave an approving glance at the leather jacket she was holding in her hand and proceeded to pick up one of her own.

“What?” She’d said when Elizabeth beamed at her. “They’re like the pack version of letterman jackets, and I don’t want to be left out.”

“If they’re so much like letterman jackets, why don’t you wear Jackson’s?” Erica asked from beyond a rack of skinny jeans.

“Please, it would do nothing for my figure. Plus, I’m pretty sure his has still got pixie blood on it.” Lydia replied, her nose scrunching in disgust.

They later ate dinner at a small Japanese inspired restaurant that Kira had found with her family one day, and they expressed their worries about the upcoming school year. For Erica, Lydia, and Kira, they fretted over the upcoming SAT’s that would determine their futures, what supernatural creature might show up next, and what in God’s name they’d be wearing to Prom this year.

Elizabeth, on the other hand, was just hoping she’d fit in.

Kira soothed her worries, explaining that the pack had taken her in so quickly when she first started at Beacon Hills that she hardly felt like The New Girl at all. Elizabeth really liked Kira, her constant optimism mirrored her own and her quirky personality was refreshing compared to Lydia’s regality and Erica’s crudity.

“Plus, if anyone who messes with you, you could turn them into a frog or something, right?” Erica said around a mouth full of a California roll.

Elizabeth smirked. “You should have seen the shit I used to do to Harris…”

 

Elizabeth smiled as she reflected on her ‘Girls Day’ and zipped her backpack shut, laying it to rest at the side of the bed. After that she rolled over, reaching for the phone that Derek had bought her and demanded that she keep on her at all times in case of emergency. Upon unlocking it, she noticed a text from Stiles.

_**STILES STILINSKI:** Emergency_

She was stumbling to her knees in his room a moment later, her transmutation suffering due to the haste at which she’d performed it. She righted herself and found Stiles staring at her, doe eyed and clutching at two similar flannels that he held in his hands.

“What is it, what’s the emergency?” Elizabeth said, scanning the room for any sign of a threat.

“Oh, jeez, sorry Elizabeth. I forget that you’re new to this. I didn't mean emergency like _danger_.” Stiles said sheepishly, holding the flannels to present them to her. “I only meant that I didn't know which one I should wear tomorrow. I was gonna send you a picture…”

Elizabeth relaxed and laughed. “Oh, right. Well next time give me a little warning, or I’ll be the one that puts you in danger. I like that one, by the way.” She said, pointing to the flannel in Stiles’s left hand that was slightly bluer than the other one.

Stiles nodded and set said flannel on his dresser before tossing the other one to the floor. Elizabeth scoffed at his laziness before snapping her fingers and sending the shirt floating back into the open dresser drawer.

“Woah, Liz, you gotta show me that one.” Stiles said in awe as he flopped down on the bed, motioning for her to join him.

“As much as I think your dad would thank me if I did, I think I’m gonna let you suffer the cruel fate of having to fold your laundry like a normal teenager.” She said as she climbed into the bed beside Stiles.

The boy scoffed at her before saying something about her no longer being his favorite, to which she responded by whacking him in the face with a pillow. They giggled until their abdomens hurt, and when silence fell the room suddenly became somber.

Stiles was worrying his bottom lip between his teeth when Elizabeth asked what was on his mind. He released the reddened flesh and took a deep breath. “Just…nervous.”  
“About what?” Elizabeth asked, rolling onto her stomach to get a better look at him.

“It’s just…going back to school is so hard, you know? I've got a lot to think about this year, on top of all the pack stuff. I've got SAT’s, honors classes, not to mention the fact that every year the student body drops about ten people due to freaking murders.” Stiles said, his words becoming rushed as he became short of breath.

“Stiles, sweetie, you’re not alone. The girls are scared, too.” Elizabeth said consolingly.

“I know, Scott is, too. But then there’s Jackson who walks around like he’s got it all figured out…”

Elizabeth scoffed and gave Stiles a fond glare. “C’mon Stiles, Jackson? He’s about as put together as a thousand piece jigsaw puzzle, don’t let him tell you any different.”

“You’re probably right. I’m just scared…I’m anxious. I don’t know what to expect going into this year. What’s next? What awful monster is going to show up on our front door this year? Which one of my friends is gonna die—.” His voice broke on the last word, and he slung his arm across his face to try to hide the tears that were forming.

Elizabeth shifted up onto her knees, scooting closer to Stiles’s body as she reached for his forearm.

“Elizabeth, no!” Stiles said firmly, jerking his arm away from her.

“Stiles, yes!” She retorted. “This is what I’m here for!”

“You know what happened last time! I don’t want that to happen again…please!” Stiles begged, sliding up his bed and curling away from her, clutching his forearm close to his body.

Elizabeth sagged, “Stiles…”

“I trust you, Liz, I do. But we've got to work on that bond or whatever, right? Before we can do anything else?” Stiles said softly.

Elizabeth nodded.

“Alright, you said you need to know me. What do you want to know? Wanna know about my mother? You want to know about Scott?” Stiles asked, ticking off different topics on his fingers.

Elizabeth reached forward and gripped his hand, effectively ending his counting. “No.” She said firmly. “I want to know about you, Stiles.”

Stiles’s eyes danced around the room awkwardly. “What…what do you want to know?”

“I shouldn’t have to ask you, Stiles, that’s not how it works. You have to want to tell me. Don’t force this, or it’s not going to work.”

Stiles looked bashful for a moment before nodding. “Okay…yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He hopped from the bed and looked moderately less tense as he crossed the room to his dresser, pulling open one of his dresser drawers to pull out a stack of records from behind his socks. 

“We can listen to some of these, if you want. I’d never let Scott know I had ‘em, he already thinks I’m ‘ _Too hipster_ ’, whatever that means.” Stiles said sheepishly, handing the records to Elizabeth while he turned and pulled a record player from the depths of his closet. "I found some of them lying around one day. They were my mothers." He added somberly. "I've been adding my own stuff ever since."

Elizabeth sifted through the records, finding classics like _ZEPPELIN IV_ and Fleetwood Mac’s self-entitled album while also coming across more recent bands like The Black Keys and Matt  & Kim. Ultimately she handed him Passion Pit’s _Chunk of Change_ and watched as he dropped the needle on it.

“Dad’s working late, so don’t worry about it being too loud.” Stiles said.

Elizabeth refrained from commenting and Stiles once again joined her on the bed, laying back in the sheets and twisting about until he found a comfortable resting place. Elizabeth waited on him to say something.

“I was never all that close to Allison, you know.” He said out of the blue, and Elizabeth was hoping he’d start out with something simple, like his favorite color, but she was willing to roll with the punches.

“Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I loved her. She and Scott were great together, if not sickeningly sweet. She was a total bad ass, too. Sweet as pie, man, but she was lethal. Like cyanide pie. You two would like each other, I think…” Stiles mused, and Elizabeth hummed in understanding.

“I don’t think it even hit me that she was gone until the funeral, you know?” He continued. “It was so sad, Liz, so sad. Her dad was alone. He’d lost everyone he loved in a year but he wasn't even crying.” Stiles’s voice was becoming strangled, so Elizabeth took his hand in hers. “He was too mad to cry. He came up to me after the service and told me it was my fault. He nearly put me through a wall before my dad could get there…”

“He was wrong, Stiles.”

“Was he?” Stiles asked, and his tearful eyes met Elizabeth’s, “Was he really? Because after he said that, I went back and thought it over and you know what I realized? This all comes back to me, Liz. And I’m not just talking Allison here. I’m talking everything, right down to Scott being bitten. I was the one who dragged Scott out of bed to find a dead body. I’m the one who couldn't leave well enough alone…”

Elizabeth collapsed on the bed beside Stiles before wrapping her arms about him, pulling him into her for a hug. She soothed him as he continued to blubber about blame and regret and how everything was his fault, and when he was done she angled his face toward her so that when she spoke, she knew he was listening.

“Stiles, you've been so brave. You are so brave, and don’t let what something else did with your body negate all the courageous, wonderful things you've done for your friends. You think Allison blames you? You think her father truly blames you for any of this? She wouldn't, and I’m sure he doesn't.” She ran a soothing hand through his hair. “You’re a hero Stiles, so quit beating yourself up like you’re the villain.”

Stiles wiped his snotty nose on the back of his hand and nodded weakly. “’Kay.”

“Now, you gonna let me take care of you for now?”

Stiles looked nervous for a moment but ultimately he decided to let Elizabeth take hold of his arm. “Not too much, alright?”

“Don’t worry, I've got this.” Elizabeth assured, and then her eyes slipped shut only to reopen as glowing white pools of light. The waves of energy rippled up her arms once again and Stiles found himself transfixed as he watched them move. His chest was loosening, and his guilt was draining from his body. If he wasn't aware of the toll that it took on Elizabeth, he’d beg her to never stop.

Unfortunately, she did had to put an end to the healing at some point, and when she did her hand slipped gently from Stiles’s forearm and she sagged the slightest bit before rolling her shoulders and righting herself on the bed.

“How was that?” She asked quietly.

“Awesome.” Stiles said with a chuckle. “You gotta bottle that shit, man. You could sell that for millions.”

Elizabeth smiled and was about to comment on the illegality of that when a figure shoved open Stiles’s window and rolled into the room.

Elizabeth shrieked and flung a hand out in front of her, effectively sending the intruder flying into Stiles’s closet. She put her body between them and Stiles, waiting for them to stand and fight.

“Jesus, Zab, it’s me!” Derek grumbled from beneath the t-shirts that had fallen on his head.

“Oh, Derek, God, I’m so sorry!” Elizabeth cried as she rushed to help him to his feet. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Seriously, dude.” Stiles said, looking at his alarm clock. “Its 9:45, Erica’ll be here in fifteen minutes for the watch…”

“Where’s the emergency?” Derek asked, turning around the room as if he expected something to jump out from any corner. 

“Emergency?” Stiles asked.

“Did you look at my phone?” Elizabeth asked, realizing that she didn't have it with her.

“As a matter of fact I did, when I saw it sitting on your bed when I _explicitly_ told you to keep it with you at all times.” Derek said sharply, and Elizabeth winced and uttered an apology. “So no danger then?”

Stiles and Elizabeth shook their heads, and Derek huffed.

“Sorry to cut into your brooding time, oh Great and Powerful Sourwolf.” Stiles said with a smirk.

Derek rolled his eyes before fixing Elizabeth with a curious stare. “You don’t look so good.”

And it was true. What guilt she’d been able to lift from Stiles had drained her, and she stood on weak legs looking ghostly pale.

“Yeah, just did some soul-sucking.” Elizabeth said casually. “Went pretty well.”

Derek nodded, “You should head home. I told Erica and the others to get a good night’s sleep tonight. School and all that, tomorrow.”

“Aw, Derek, you do care!” Stiles cooed from his bed.

“You sure you’ll be alright here?”

Derek nodded, so Elizabeth vanished without further ado.

“Think she’ll ever teach me how to do that?” Stiles asked in awe.

“Not if you’re going to use it to skip class.” Derek replied, picking up _Wuthering Heights_ before settling into his usual spot.

Stiles scoffed at the assumption. “Yeah right, I've got bigger plans than that!”

“Girls locker room?”

Stiles floundered and flushed. “Well, I…I.”

“Big plans, indeed.”

Stiles stuck his tongue out before flopping back in his bed, pulling the covers tight around his body. He watched Derek read for a few moments. “You think you could tell me what that’s about?”

Derek’s eyebrows shifted into his ‘You’re joking, right?’ face, and Stiles laughed. “C’mon, be a friend! I’m supposed to have it read by tomorrow!”

“Eight years ago, that may have been my problem. Not so much now.” Derek said as he flipped another page. 

Stiles whined low in his throat and wriggled about in his bed, and Derek didn't watch the flexing muscles and writhing limbs out of the corner of his eye. He also didn't get stuck reading the same sentence for a minute and a half because of said wriggling and whining.

“ _Please_ , Derek!”

Derek sighed. Begging. What was the universe going to throw his way next?

“I’ll do anything you want, please!”

Oh, _fuck him_.

“No, Stiles.” Derek said firmly, viciously flipping a page and nearly tearing it in the process.

Stiles humphed and spun in bed, turning his back on the werewolf. “I’m going to remember this the next time you’re paralyzed in a pool!”

Derek smiled softly. “And what makes you think that’ll happen again?”

“Dude, its Beacon Hills. Anything’s possible.”

Derek just rolled his eyes and continued reading, and by the time he’d shut the book Stiles was out like a light, breathing softly and grumbling something about Scott and fifteen Subway sandwiches. Derek decided not to dwell on it, and instead plucked one of Stiles’s new notebooks from his desk and quickly summarized the plot of _Wuthering Heights_ including character profiles, symbols, motifs, themes, and plot analysis.

By the time he was finished he had nearly twenty pages of notes which he set on Stiles’s bedside to be seen when the boy woke up. The clock on his desk said 6:45, which meant that the alarm would go off in five minutes. Derek sat in Stiles’s window until the shrill buzzing went off and he slipped gracefully from the ledge when he saw slender fingers slapping at the snooze button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone keeping up with the story!!
> 
> I've been getting awesome feedback in the comments, and it's really helping me gauge where I'm going with the story. Some of your suggestions have been awesome and I can't wait for you to see how they play out.
> 
> I wanted to get in a little girl time with the story. It's centered around Derek, Stiles, and Elizabeth, obviously, but I want there to be little pack moments, too. Getting the kids back to school is going to be fun, mainly because I have plans for a certain gym teacher that I'm excited to write in. 
> 
> As usual, any mistakes are mine, and comments and feedback and thoughts are always welcome! Thanks guys!


	10. Siren

After mercilessly beating his poor alarm clock, Stiles finally flung his comforter from his body and rolled from his bed with an exaggerated whine. He reached for his phone and opened three new text messages: One from Scott, one from Elizabeth, and one from Derek. He opened them in that order.

_**SCOTTY BOY:** Do u think we really had 2 read that stupid book?_

_**ELIZABETH:** Morning sunshine!! Hope you’re feeling better!!_

_**SOURWOLF:** You’re welcome. Tell anyone where it came from and I’ll never help you out ever again. _

The last message left Stiles utterly bewildered until he noticed the small stack of papers waiting for him on his nightstand. He dropped his phone and reached for them, grinning as he read ‘ _Wuthering Heights: For Dummies_ ’ written across the top in Derek’s uppercase handwriting. He leafed through every page, glossing over the notes that must have taken Derek all night to take down.

Stiles had been mostly kidding when he’d asked Derek to give him the run down on the summer reading, but he’d never have guessed that he’d actually help him out. When he reached the last page he picked up his phone and typed out a text to Derek.

_**STILES:** You didn't have to do this._

While he waited for the response he grabbed a towel and headed for the shower. Lately he’d been managing to stay in there for more than a few minutes which greatly improved his relationship with the pack, now that they didn't have to deal with his three day old B.O. When he returned from the shower feeling fresh and marginally more optimistic about the day, he had two new messages: one from Scott again, and the other from Derek.

_**SCOTTY BOY:** I’m serious dude_

_**SOURWOLF:** Don’t tell Scott where you got them._

Stiles laughed as he typed out his replies.

_**STILES:** Of course we had to read it, dumbass. You better hit the Sparknotes, bro._

_**STILES:** “And I shall never reveal the best side of you, Sourwolf?” _

He thundered down the stairs with the notes between his teeth, still tugging his flannel over his shoulders. He made a b-line for the kitchen and greeted his dad who was already sitting at the breakfast table nursing a coffee. It had been a long night at the station, but his father still made the effort to see him off on his first day, just like he did every year.

“You got everything you need?” His dad asked as he watched Stiles wrestle with his backpack near the door.

“Almost!” Stiles said before crossing the kitchen to pull a Pop-Tart from the pantry. “Now I've got everything!” He hugged his dad before making for the driveway, and once he was properly situated in the driver’s seat with twenty minutes until the bell, he reached into his pocket to check his phone. Four messages this time: Two from Scott, one from Kira, and another from Derek.

_**SCOTTY BOY:** Did u read it?_

_**SOURWOLF:** Don’t quote Potter to me. Get to school._

_**SCOTTY BOY:** Kira probs read it. I’ll ask her_

_**KIRA:** Please answer him before his head explodes._

Stiles laughed and tossed his phone into his cup holder, putting Ol’ Faithful in drive before pulling out of the driveway and heading for school. 

__

***

He was struggling with his lock when a gust of wind and a wild mass of auburn hair caught his attention. He jerked so suddenly that he collided into the burly senior behind him, and was promptly shoved back against his locker none too gently.

“Oops, sorry Stiles, didn't mean to startle you!” Elizabeth said with a giggle. She held up a finger before he could get a chance to speak and then pointed that finger at the senior who’d nearly dislocated Stiles’s entire body. With a small circular motion of her finger, the boy’s pants dropped and revealed a bright banana hammock that left nothing to the imagination. Stiles guffawed with the rest of the students in the hall while the flustered student tried his best to pick his pants and his dignity up off the floor.

“The hell was that, Liz?” Stiles asked breathlessly when he was finally done laughing.

“I don’t like bullies.” She said simply. “And no, he wasn't wearing those before I dropped his pants. I thought it would be a nice touch though.”

He was going to agree, but suddenly another body appeared to his right and, seriously, people had to stop sneaking up on him…but it was just Scott looking positively wrecked.

“Did you read it or not!” Scott cried, and Kira appeared at his side. She and Stiles swapped put-upon glances before joining forces to give Scott a crash course in classic American literature. 

Scott walked away five minutes later looking far less worried and Kira followed after him, wishing Elizabeth and Stiles good luck in their first classes. That’s when the five minute warning bell went off and Stiles squeaked and returned to the task of fiddling with his lock.

“Let me.” Elizabeth said, and with a flick of the wrist sent the _entire. freaking. locker. soaring. across. the. junior. freaking. hall._ She looked completely terrified when he turned to stare at her, and lucky for them the hall was nearly empty at this time. “Oops!”

“Oops?” Stiles cried, gesturing to his poor disfigured locker door lying on the floor. “Oops, Elizabeth?

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so excited I can hardly control myself!” Elizabeth explained, quickly using her powers to straighten out the dented metal and align it back in its hinges. 

Stiles gaped at her for a few more minutes before giving up on his locker all together. “Alright, come on. Art first, right?” Stiles asked.

Elizabeth beamed and nodded her head, and the two walked to their first class together.

***

Of course, what type of first day would it be if the stupid siren they were hunting all week didn't show up in the middle of lunch?

Somehow the stars above had aligned and the pack had landed in the same lunch together, and although Jackson couldn't be bothered to sit with them and instead chose to sit with Danny and his jock friends, the rest of the pack sat together at one table debating what the cafeteria food was made out of.

“I’m telling you, Eli’s on to something with the track turf theory.” Erica said with a sneer as she twirled her pasta around her plastic fork, gingerly sticking her tongue out to taste it before shrugging and eating the whole bite.

“I don’t think I want to be right about this one, guys.” Elizabeth said miserably as she poked at her own pasta. “I don’t think it’s even cooked…”

“Well, you know what they say; you gotta throw it at the wall to find out!” Stiles said, but he would have taken any excuse to get the Mystery Spaghetti off of his plate. He flung a noodle at the window and before it even hit the glass he saw Derek brooding outside, looking directly at their table.

“Uh, guys?” Stiles asked, pointing to the werewolf on the other side of the glass.

“The hell’s he doing here?” Boyd asked, already moving to stand.

“Wait.” Stiles said, throwing out an arm to stop Boyd from moving any farther. He pulled his phone from his pocket and swiftly called Derek.

“Shouldn't you be in class?” He answered.

Funny thing was…the Derek that was standing outside the school wasn't talking.

“The siren’s at the school.” Stiles said quickly, and the whole table tensed and glanced back to the window, but the damn thing was already gone.

“Come on, we can still catch it!” Scott said, and the table sprang into action. Even Jackson dislodged himself from his ‘Holier Than Thou’ crowd when he saw the commotion. They sprinted down the hall, discussing their plan of attack a little too loudly for a school hallway. Stiles was considering telling them to shut the hell up when Erica spoke up.

“What, we’re missing something here.” She said, and the whole group halted to look at her expectantly. She quirked a mischievous eyebrow and said, “The siren looked like Derek…Who here’s trying to bone Derek Hale?”

If Stiles’s heart stopped beating, no one capitalized on it.

The whole group turned to look at one another but before anyone could get down to any hardcore deducing they heard glass shatter nearby.

By the time they arrived they saw Derek struggling to stand among the shards of glass he’d landed in.

Elizabeth darted forward to help him but Isaac gripped her by the wrist and pulled her back. “Wait! We’ve got to be sure it’s him!”

The group stood there waiting, looking expectantly at Derek.

“What?” He asked. “What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, do something Derek would do!” Scott offered, which as usual only caused Derek to roll his eyes. That right there was almost reason enough for Stiles to believe this was the real Derek.

Lydia nudged Elizabeth’s side with her elbow, “Ask him something only Derek would know!”

Elizabeth nodded, “Right, right… What did I get Peter for his 19th birthday?”

Derek suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Do I have to say it out loud? Can I just…whisper it or something?”

Elizabeth nodded and Isaac released his grip on her wrist as she made her way over to him. Derek was shifting from foot to foot nervously and Stiles was starting to get really curious about this gift.

That was before he looked up and saw the scene’s reflection in one of the mirrored security cameras that hung from the walls. To his horror, he saw the skeletal body of the siren leaning in close to Elizabeth before whispering something in her ear.

“No, Elizabeth!” Stiles cried, but it was too late. Elizabeth’s eyes blazed a bright yellow before reverting back to their original green and Stiles knew that to be the sign of the siren’s possession. He stumbled backwards a few steps before turning and bolting the other way, yelling for the others to follow.

“What the Hell happened?” Isaac cried as they ran.

“A siren doesn't need a romantic connection.” Stiles explained as the turned down a new corridor. “It can become anything that their intended victim craves. Most cases they become their victim’s lover, but some can become friends or family. Whatever gets the job done.”

“I’d still like to think someone here wants to bone Hale.” Erica said, and Stiles would glare at her and tell her to drop it in the name of self-preservation if he wasn't suddenly running into a solid wall…

…A solid wall in the shape of Derek Hale who caught Stiles before he hit the ground and righted him before asking, “What’s this about boning me?”

Stiles could have lived his whole life without having to listen to Derek ask that question.

“The siren’s got your body.” Boyd clarified.

“That’s not the only think I've got.” And that was Derek’s voice, but when the group turned they saw the siren lurking down the hall, Elizabeth standing in front of it defensively. It was the perfect doppelganger of the man standing beside Stiles, and if this wasn't such a shitty situation Stiles would have thought he was having another satisfying dream about the Hale Twins and their super-hot neighbor Stiles that they both were harboring a major crush on…

Right. Reality. Two Derek’s were definitely not a good thing in reality.

“You’ve got to be kidding. Who let that happen?” Derek asked, glaring at the group of teenagers.

“Don’t look at us, dude!” Scott cried.

“Not that I don’t love the melodrama…” The siren drawled, and the giddy look on its face looked so out of place on Derek that Stiles was beginning to reconsider his theory that Derek could make any emotion look good. “But I was wondering if we could get back to the chasing? Or we could skip right to the killing, if you’d prefer?”

“Chasing, chasing is good!” Stiles said as he took off again, the pack trailing close behind.

“Do we have a plan?” Derek asked.

“Do we ever?” Kira replied.

“Head for the auditorium, we've gotta keep this thing out of the ha- _AAAAAAAAAALLS!_ ” Scott’s order was interrupted when his body was suddenly sent flying into the ceiling, crashing through it and sending cement flecks and rubble falling in his wake. 

“Scott!” Kira cried.

“’M alri’…” Was the grumbled response, and through the hole in the ceiling they saw Scott’s face appear. He was covered in dust and looked like he was in mild discomfort, but for the most part he was unharmed. “Head for the ‘torium, I’ll catch up!”

Stiles was about to protest that he and Kira were coming up to get him, but then Jackson was suddenly lifted from his feet and thrown the length of the hall, rolling to a stop just before he could slam into a classroom door.

A classroom that was full of students that were blissfully unaware of the supernatural, save for Danny who was certainly aware of the supernatural but could be quoted as saying, “Didn't have time for that shit.”

Stiles wished he’d taken up the same philosophy as he turned and saw Elizabeth stalking down the halls with her hands clenched at her sides. Her hair was billowing around her as she glowered at the pack, clearly picking her next victim. Stiles suddenly realized how thankful he was that she was usually on their side, because from this side of the fence she was downright terrifying. Behind her Derek’s double was sauntering down the halls like he didn't have a care in the world, and why would he? He had a magical juggernaut at his disposal and the pack was practically defenseless against her.

Lydia had already taken off down the hall to aid Jackson, and the rest of the group followed suit, trying their best to stay stealthy while they stampeded down the halls, as if Scott hadn't just put a gaping hole through roof of the history department’s hall way. 

The group converged around Jackson and Lydia hoisted him up on her shoulder, dragging him along with an impressive show of strength for such a small body. Several times Boyd or Isaac offered to take him, but Lydia just glared at them and then told Jackson to watch where he put his arm, because she was expecting to return to class after this was over and she wanted her hair to maintain its curl.

When they finally reached the auditorium, Scott was standing there holding the door open, ushering them inside and then hauling the door shut behind him. He quickly locked the door on principal, but he knew as well as anyone else that it wouldn't do much good when Elizabeth got there.

“What are we gonna do? We can’t get close to her!” Lydia asked, resting Jackson into one of the plush auditorium seats. Stiles rolled his eyes. Scott went through solid concrete and he was fine; Jackson log rolls a few times and needs special treatment.

“You gotta take her on.” Derek said gravely, and Stiles was still glaring at Jackson when he realized that the rest of the pack had gone silent. He turned to see Derek looking at him, and after doing a double take he found that his green eyes hadn't wavered and he’d apparently been speaking to Stiles.

“Me? How?” Stiles sputtered.

“You don’t have to get close to her to fight her.” Derek explained.

“The hell’s Stilinski gonna do, talk her to death?” Jackson asked.

Stiles hadn’t gotten around to telling the pack at large what he could do, but now seemed at good a time as any to flick his wrist and send the chair beneath Jackson’s ass sliding to the side ever so slightly, sending the werewolf to the floor with a shout.

“Woah, Stiles!” Erica cried, “Where’d you learn to do that?”

A bang on the door distracted the group temporarily, and they scrambled to get as far from it as possible while Stiles explained how Elizabeth had been training him over the past couple of weeks.

“Then Derek’s right, Stiles, you can stop her!” Lydia called from her hiding place behind the AV control desk. She and Jackson were curled behind it while Stiles stood wrapped in the curtains of the stage a few feet away from them. Scott had forced Kira to take to the rafters, but she’d gone anything but quietly and had looked positively furious before ascending to the catwalk looming above the stage with Isaac at her heels. Even now Stiles could see her glaring at her boyfriend who was wrapped in the curtains on the opposite side of the stage. Stiles knew that Scott’s puppy eyes weren't getting him out of this one: If there was one thing Kira hated, it was Scott telling her something was too dangerous for her to handle, even if he was right.

The banging on the door continued at an ominously steady pace until an uneasy silence settled over the auditorium.

“Do you think they left?” Isaac asked in an exaggerated whisper from high above the stage.

Of course he’d ask that. _Of course_ Isaac would be That Guy. If this was a horror movie, Stiles would drop Isaac’s ass right in front of the killer and leave him for dead because everyone knows that as soon as you ask if they’re gone…

…they blow open the double doors and shatter the lock while doing it, striding into the room with calculating expressions, looking a lot like what Elizabeth looked like right now.  
If he wasn't thirty feel above him, Stiles would unapologetically slap the ever living shit out of Isaac. But he was, so instead Stiles decided to stand rooted to the spot behind his curtain, taking brief glances from behind the velvet fabric any time that he deemed it safe to do so.

“You wanna play hide and seek now, huh?” The Siren taunted in Derek’s voice. “Well then, let’s just see what’s behind curtain number one, shall we?”

Scott and Stiles made frightened eye contact from across the stage, and in a fluid motion the velvet strip of fabric concealing Scott fell to the ground, pool at his feet as he spun to face Elizabeth and the Siren.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here! A True Alpha!” The Siren cooed, then glanced at the curtain still hanging on the other side of the stage. “I wonder what could be behind curtain number two. Be a dear, won’t you?” He asked Elizabeth sweetly, and Elizabeth did as she was told, sending the other curtain toppling to the floor and revealing Stiles looking just as dumbfounded as Scott was.

“Oh, and who’s this?” The Siren asked, obviously unable to sense the magic within Stiles. “A petty human?” He laughed derisively and though Stiles knew it wasn't him, hearing those words fall from Derek’s mouth caused a twisting feeling in his stomach that he didn't want to think about. “Kill him.” He added blandly at the end, and Stiles’s blood was suddenly racing as he turned tail and ran behind the stage, knocking over various props and clothing racks in an attempt to flee and head for the emergency escape door that was somewhere back here…

Stiles knew that running wasn't exactly a great display of being a team player, but he figured he was much more valuable to the pack alive than dead.

He didn't get very far, however, before Elizabeth tore down the black silken curtain that separated the backstage from the front stage, and he was caught mid-stride only ten feet from the door before being yanked to his feet and dragged across the polished wooden floor toward Elizabeth.

Scott roared and dove across the stage to hold onto Stiles, and was in turn dragged with him and felt the same burn Stiles did when they fell from the stage and were dragged across the hard carpet only to come to a stop at Elizabeth’s feet.

Scott and Stiles were both gazing up at her with the same stupid, wide eyed expression when a roar from behind Elizabeth caught their attention. Boyd was charging in, flanked by Derek and Erica.

“Feel free to kill them, too. I’m not picky.” The Siren said airily of the incoming rescue team.

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder and didn't need to lift a finger in order to send Derek, Boyd, and Lydia flying into the air, sending them soaring so far back that they each hit the very back wall of the auditorium.

With her focus back on them, Elizabeth reached her hand toward Scott and Stiles respectively and clenched her fists and…oh God…

_**…OW.** _

It felt like the hands in front of them were suddenly inside, clenching around their physical hearts as her fists grew tighter. Stiles watched as Scott shifted without meaning to, howling in pain as he writhed on the floor.

“Scott!” Stiles cried feebly as he, too, succumbed to the pain and began jerking violently against the attack. He reached out a hand for his best friend.

Scott looked determinedly at him, “Do it Stiles. You can do it.” He grunted out before wincing and arching his bag, roaring in pain.

Stiles’s eyes flicked to the girl above them, whose eyes were ringed with the bright yellow that attested to her possession and who was snarling down on them without showing any signs of mercy. Stiles’s world was going black at the edges, and he was thinking of his father, alone again; Scott, believing in him so completely; Lydia, grabbing him by the shoulders and reminding him that he’d been training to do this for weeks; and finally Derek, jerking him awake with a desperate cry of his name that may or may not have happened in real life, but Stiles couldn't tell.

The hand he’d extended toward Scott suddenly shot up at Elizabeth and the brightest spark of amber light he’d produced thus far sent her flying. Struggling to catch his breath, Stiles took off after her. He could tell his eyes were flaring up as energy coursed through him. He arrived just as she was getting up and flung her into the wall, holding her there with an open hand, watching as the plaster at her back cracked under the pressure.

Behind him, Scott had sprung up and charged the Siren, who certainly was nothing to sneeze at but was nowhere near as powerful without Elizabeth at its side. Just as Scott was closing in and it seemed lights out on the Siren, it started playing dirty.

“Elizabeth!” The siren called, and it sounded just like Derek would in a time of desperation. “Are you gonna let them kill me, too? Are you going to let me die like you let my family die?”

Elizabeth’s eyes burst with light and she began wildly thrashing, which meant that Stiles had to double his efforts in order to keep her pinned to the wall. His head was starting to spin from all the energy it was taking.

Derek was at his side in an instant, calling for Elizabeth and desperately trying to get her to see that it wasn’t real, that wasn’t him, he didn’t think that and he never would.  
But Elizabeth wasn't having it; she spat at him and called him the Siren, screeching at the top of her voice while attempting to lash out at both Derek and Stiles.

Finally, after a little help from Boyd and Erica, Scott was able to kill the siren and the pack watched as it shifted back into its horrible, skeletal true form before collapsing to the ground.

Elizabeth’s eyes lost their yellow tint, and she sagged against Stiles’s invisible restraints.

“Let her go.” Derek ordered, advancing on Elizabeth and holding his arms out to catch her when she fell.

“I’m fine, Derek.” She said as she dropped into his arms. She looked behind him to where Stiles was shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. “You were amazing, Stiles.”

Stiles just shrugged like it was nothing, but he was practically glowing inside. For the first time he didn't feel like a hindrance to the pack, he felt like an asset.

The group reconvened around the Siren’s body, each mulling over the very important matter of how the hell they were going to drag the dead body of a mythical creature through the crowded halls of Beacon Hills High.

“I say we throw him over our shoulders and act like it’s an injury.” Jackson said. “We could just act like he passed out from exhaustion in gym and say we’re taking him to the nurse…”

“Brilliant, Jackson!” Elizabeth cried, and whether Jackson liked to admit it or not, he preened under the praise.

“I’m gonna get out of here before someone sees me. I’m around this school way too often these days.” Derek said, and he seemed to struggle with something internally before adding. “Pack meeting tonight.”

Everyone turned to look at him curiously.

“But it’s not—.” Isaac began, but Derek cut him off.

“I know, but…” And he seemed genuinely bashful when he mumbled, “You guys did well today, and it’s you’re first day back. We should y’know, celebrate.”

You could almost hear the dust floating in the air, it was so silent.

“Cel-celebrate?” Scott asked, looking confused.

“Yes, Scott, celebrate.” Derek answered flatly.

“Do you even know how to celebrate?” Erica asked.

Derek rolled his eyes and was about to call the whole thing off.

“Guys, leave him alone! That’s a great idea Derek!” Elizabeth said, nodding encouragingly and giving Derek thumbs up behind everyone’s back.

After a few more minutes of skepticism and hushed whispers about whether or not they’d killed the right Derek, the group as a whole agreed to meet at Derek’s at their usual time.

As Derek turned to leave a hand shot out a caught him by the shoulder. He turned to see Stiles looking at him with a small grin. “Hey, I just wanted to say that I think it’s a good idea, too.”

Derek just stared at him.

Stiles found himself returning the stare for a few moments of pure awkward silence before snapping out of it, nodding his head jerkily before giving an exaggerated wave and turning on his heel to help hoist the Siren’s body onto Jackson and Boyd’s shoulders.

Derek left with a satisfied grin on his face.

***

The pack arrived at Derek’s loft at seven and stampeded past Derek and Elizabeth in a whirlwind of laughter, bringing with them snacks and movies that they wanted to watch. Derek looked like a fish out of water, but Elizabeth soothed him with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“This is a good thing, Derek. Come on!” Elizabeth said, dragging him toward their little den.

The group was already settling around the television when Elizabeth and Derek joined. Elizabeth was called over by Isaac who had brought along his Spanish homework in the hopes that Elizabeth would help him, which left Derek hovering awkwardly behind the sofa.

Stiles’s head suddenly snapped to look at him and his smiled widened as he reached into the plastic bag in his lap and pulled out a package of Sour Patch Kids.

“For you, Sourwolf!” Stiles said regally as he tossed them to Derek. “Come on, pop a squat!” He added, patting the open space between him and Jackson on the sofa.

Derek hesitated, which only made Stiles slap the empty cushion with more vigor until Derek finally sat down. He was tense as he watched Erica and Boyd feud in front of the DVD player about which movie they’d watch first.

“Look Erica, I don’t know how many times I've got to tell you: I’m not watching that again!” Boyd said, glaring at the case for _He’s Just Not That Into You_ which was currently clutched in Erica’s hand.

“Look Vernon, I don’t know how many times I've got to tell you: That movie sucks!” Erica retorted, pointing accusingly at _The Terminator_. 

“Vernon?” He heard Elizabeth whisper as she turned to Isaac.

Isaac’s eyes searched her face incredulously for a moment before laughing softly. “Did you really think his first name was Boyd?”

Elizabeth shrugged and leaned into his space in order to help guide him through the conjugations of the word ‘poder’ while Erica and Boyd continued to yell at each other. Using their distraction to his advantage, Scott snuck up to the television and put Kira’s movie into the DVD player as an obvious display of remorse for his actions in the auditorium.  
Kira still looked icy, but she thawed marginally when Scott ambled back over to the love seat they were sitting on and wrapped an arm around her.

Erica and Boyd eventually noticed that Ferris was faking sick on screen and they admitted defeat and joined the group by curling up together in the plush recliner next to Isaac and Elizabeth.

Derek was acutely aware of the body sitting to his left radiating heat like a furnace. Said body would occasionally lean into his personal space and whisper fun-facts into his ear. Derek found that fun facts weren't all that fun when they were being whispered to him by an annoyingly attractive voice, and several times he shot warning glances at Stiles and told him to shut up and watch the movie.

Stiles would only smirk and pop a Skittle in his mouth before adding further commentary about something to do with a parade and a busted knee.

Derek couldn't really remember the facts, but he could remember the way that Stiles’s breath blew across the shell of his ear. He busied himself by shoving as many Sour Patch Kids in his mouth as quickly as humanly possible.

As the movie wore on, Stiles’s focus seemed to be slipping away from him, and he began fidgeting about the couch. He finally deemed it necessary to throw his long legs across Derek’s lap, his feet resting in the space left between him and Jackson.

Derek had never glared so hard in all his life. He was ready to fire lasers.

Stiles just smiled sheepishly and shrugged before pointing to the screen and telling Derek that he should pay attention because apparently this was the best part of the whole movie.

Derek couldn't have concentrated if he tried.

Not only were Stiles’s legs tossed casually across his lap, but Derek’s senses were overwhelmed with the distinctive smell that usually accompanied attraction. That was usually part of the deal when it came to hanging out with teenagers, but this was different: it was new. It was attraction that was blooming and festering in the moment, and Derek felt a foreign feeling of hope growing in his chest until Stiles slapped him on the shoulder and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially in his ear.

“Looks like Isaac’s got a crush, huh?”

Derek followed Stiles’s line of vision and watched Isaac watching Elizabeth while she proof read his homework. His eyes were wide and sparkling as they roamed across her face which twisted in concentration as she tried to decipher Isaac’s chicken scratch handwriting. He was smiling softly, and Derek could practically hear him composing poetry about ‘ _freckles like constellations_ ’ and ‘ _sun kissed skin_ ’. 

Of course. Derek had to repress the urge to gag.

Derek just huffed and threw Stiles’s legs from his lap, just so he’d have something to do other than wallow in self-pity. Stiles looked hurt for a moment before settling into a new position that caused his back to rest against Derek’s shoulder. Derek stared at him again until Stiles met his gaze.

Stiles only shrugged and told Derek he made a nice pillow.

Derek’s attention continued to shift between the infuriating young man at his side, the movie on the television, and the hushed discussion about sentence structure going on between Isaac and Elizabeth. Perhaps he was just bitter, but he’d have loved nothing more than to scream himself horse as he told Isaac in acute detail that Elizabeth was, in no way shape or form, interested in him. His inner turmoil clearly showed on his face because Stiles elbowed him in the ribs to draw his attention.

“Lighten up, man.” Stiles said softly. “We’re all having fun, you should be, too!”

“I am having fun.” Derek said, but even the way the words sounded coming out of his mouth attested to the opposite.

Stiles raised an eyebrow to him challengingly. “I don’t think I've seen you smile since we got here.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not great with people.” Derek replied icily, and he knew he should quit before he said something he didn't mean, but he was finally starting to realize just how much of an outsider he was in his own pack.

He didn't begrudge her anything, but Elizabeth had swept onto the scene little more than a month ago and had already made more progress with the pack than he had in just over a year. Granted Elizabeth was desperate for companionship and never had trouble expressing herself, while Derek had been guarded and self-sufficient since the fire, but that didn't mean that it didn't hurt that she could fit in so seamlessly while he still stood on the outside to serve as another soldier to fight the good fight.

Looking around he could see that everyone had their place. Scott was their leader, courageous and bold and loyal almost to a fault, and by his side he had Kira: the perfect warrior with the heart of gold. Erica and Boyd had each other, and together they provided the group with brutal honesty in the form of Erica and a voice of reason in the form of Boyd. Jackson and Lydia had seemed to be outsiders at first, but Lydia proved herself to be quite the strategist and Jackson’s stubbornness in day to day life transferred into resilience in the face of danger. Then there was Stiles. Brilliant Stiles with all that untapped potential swirling in his body, not only that, but he was the soul of the pack as well. Even Elizabeth had come in and managed to worm her way into the circle with her sincerity and her ecstasy for life, not to mention the positivity she brought with her everywhere she went.  
And then there was Derek. Alone. Alone and constantly screwing up. He lost every fight, jumped to the wrong conclusions, and always seemed to end up in bed with the enemy. He was a curse to the pack, and the more he thought on it, the worse he felt.

The sound of snapping fingers brought him out of his reverie. Stiles’s hand came into focus where it was repeatedly snapping in front of Derek’s eyes. “Earth to Derek, brooding time is over. Time to talk to Stiles.”

“I’m not talking to you about this.” Derek mumbled.

Stiles looked affronted for a moment. “Who else are you gonna talk to? Jackson?”

“What the Hell’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson asked. “Never mind, forget it. Just keep it down, Stilinski. If he wants to brood, let him.”

“Some friend you are.” Stiles grumbled before refocusing on Derek. “This isn't over.”

Derek didn't respond.

When the movie ended the pack got up and packed up, complaining loudly about school despite it only being the second day. Elizabeth attempted to cheer them up but no one seemed to want to hear it, not even Isaac who was still looking at her with that dopey expression on his face.

Derek ushered everyone out the door, giving Isaac a particularly purposeful push when he saw the boy making to turn back and say goodbye to Elizabeth for the fourth time. Before he could slam the door shut a hand caught the metal and Derek seriously considered slamming it on Isaac’s fingers before he jerked the door open and revealed Stiles standing there, looking uncertain.

“We’re here for you, you know.” Stiles said simply. “All of us. Not just me.”

Derek was stunned into silence, so Stiles continued.

“I don’t know what’s getting to you, but don’t do that to yourself, dude. Don’t beat yourself up. The bad guys do that enough already.” Stiles said with a small laugh.

“And here I was, thinking we were about to have a moment that didn't involve you telling a crappy joke.” Derek said, but his words were missing their usual malice, which Stiles picked up on.

“It wouldn't be right if I didn't sneak one in there.” Stiles said, “But I’m not messing around. If there’s something you need to talk about or…y’know…whatever. We’re here. We’re a pack.” Stiles finished with a shrug.

Derek nodded his understanding. “Yeah, we are.” He said, feeling his apprehension and anxieties melt away in the wake of Stiles’s words. “Weirdest fucking pack ever, but it’s a pack.”

Stiles threw his neck back and laughed, and Derek wanted nothing more than to pull him back inside and promise to forge him an incredibly accurate doctor’s note so that he could skip school tomorrow and stay with him all day. He’d kick Elizabeth and Peter out and hang a thousand socks on the door and just take the time to get to know Stiles, because watching him laugh made Derek realize that there was so much about the boy that he wanted to discover.

He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Stiles say he’d see him at the next pack meeting, and Derek just nodded in agreement and watched him turn and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, and thank you guys for your continued support with this story! I'm having as much fun writing it as you are reading it.
> 
> Sorry for anyone who hasn't seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off because you were probably lost for a bit there, but you really should get on that. It's a classic.
> 
> This chapter was supposed to feature Stiles coming into his own and not having to be the damsel in distress just because he's not a wolf. I had a lot of fun writing it and hope you'll like it!
> 
> Mistakes are all my own, and any comments and criticisms you guys have are welcome!


	11. Game On

The rest of the week passed without incident, unless you counted Elizabeth tying together the shoes of a sophomore that had rudely commented on the uneven slope of Scott’s jaw with a carefully aimed spell, for which she received no blame and spent the rest of class laughing with Scott about.

Friday afternoon came and was consumed by lacrosse. The boys left their last class buzzing with anticipation and nerves. They pulled their work out bags from their lockers and reconvened in the locker room where they shed their school clothes and slipped into their lacrosse gear and pinnies.

For once in his life, Stiles didn't appear to be the most nervous in the face of physical activity. Jackson had been applying deodorant for the past minute and a half, totally zoned out and staring blankly ahead.

Stiles was about to shake him when Danny grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Forget it dude. Let him come back on his own." Danny said sagely, looking compassionately at his best friend. "He's just psyching himself out because he thinks he won't be as good as he was before he left."

Stiles nodded and watched as Jackson continued to cake on deodorant with a far off look in his eye. 

Jackson's return had been as mysterious as it was sudden. He'd arrived at Allison's funeral in his slick silver Porsche which caused absolute hysteria in the world of one Lydia Martin. Things in London had gone south, and Jackson barely escaped with his life. He returned to his home in Beacon Hills looking to pick up essentially where he'd left off.  
Seeing Jackson like this made the guy seem almost human.

Jackson jerked from his reverie and pulled a face at the amount of gel he'd pooled beneath his arms. He caught Stiles staring at him and glared before flipping him off and turning toward the showers to rinse himself off.

Emphasis on ' _almost_ ' human.

Stiles arrived at try outs to see Elizabeth, Kira, Lydia, and Erica gathered together on the bleachers. Elizabeth looked to be positively vibrating with excitement as she cheered on all of her friends, while Lydia shouted critiques at Jackson and Erica attempted to explain the game to Kira who looked like she was in way over her head. Usually Melissa and his father would be here as well, but the station needed the sheriff and Mrs. McCall was working a busy afternoon in the wake of a three car pile-up.

Stiles tugged his helmet off his head before trotting over to them. "I thought you hated lacrosse?" He said to Elizabeth in particular.

"I hate lacrosse, but I love my friends. Sacrifices must be made." She said nonchalantly.

Stiles just laughed and spoke with the other girls as well, and returned to the field with a message from Kira to Scott that Stiles blushed while repeating. Scott blushed too and waved to his girlfriend from across the pitch with a dopey grin on his face.

Stiles rolled his eyes and called for a group huddle among pack members. They stood in a tight circle and reminded themselves about the importance of self-control, and that just because they were made of bricks and steel inside, it didn't make the squishy humans on the field any less vulnerable. They broke the huddle and joined in on the drills that Coach was running as a warm up.

Twenty minutes later, Stiles noticed a fifth body had joined the girls on the bleachers, and was floored to see Derek Hale, in the flesh, munching on a soft pretzel watching the try outs from the side lines. Stiles was so distracted that he didn't notice Jackson passing the ball to him, and instead took the it hard to the face mask and flopped to the ground.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle, "Christ, Stilinski. Come on, get up!" He hollered.

Stiles struggled to his feet and glared at Jackson. "You did that on purpose!" He accused.

"You were wide open!" Jackson cried in return.

Stiles turned to Isaac, Boyd, and Scott for backup, but Scott was currently mouthing something to Kira and making stupid little hearts with his hands, Isaac was purposefully tying his shoes, and Boyd was adamantly looking skyward as if he knew that Stiles was going to ask his opinion. Stiles just resigned himself to glaring at Jackson one last time before readjusting his helmet and returning to the scrimmage.

As usual, the wolves were positively dominating and Stiles found himself running up and down the field hopelessly trying to keep up with the pace of the game. With wolves on both sides of the scrimmage, the back and forth play was pretty even and Stiles was breathless and panting with thirty minutes left to go in the game.

"C'MON STILES!" He heard Elizabeth cry, and turned to see the witch standing on the bleachers, clapping with her arms raised high over his head, showing her support a little too enthusiastically for a try-out level scrimmage. Stiles appreciated it none the less.

The others joined in with the cheering and for a moment Derek's stony expression melted into a supportive smile, clapping along with the rest of them as Isaac rolled over Jackson's back and fired a successful shot on net.

"WAY TO GO, ISAAC!" Elizabeth called, and even from this far away he could see Isaac's cheeks flashing crimson.

"Dude, you think she digs me?" He asked Stiles hopefully as the two met for a face off in the middle of the field.

Stiles just gave a noncommittal grunt so as to spare Isaac the heartbreak.

Naturally he lost the face off, what with Isaac having the supernatural advantage and all, and hopelessly trotted behind his friends. Hell, Greenberg was probably outplaying him at the point, and he was sitting on the side lines eating vanilla pudding out of the cup with no spoon. Stiles's shoulders slumped in defeat as he watched Scott and Jackson volley passes back and forth between each other with unnatural speed and precision before Jackson fired at the net, the ball finding its home behind Danny's back.

Lydia cheered wildly while Kira blew Scott a kiss which naturally he reached up to catch because Scott was hopeless like that.

Stiles was ready to pack up and leave when Derek called out to him.

"Stiles!" He called, getting the boy's attention before continuing, "Cut the shit, show ‘em what you got!"

Stiles was baffled, "What the hell do I have?!"

Derek tilted his head slightly toward Elizabeth, who in turn let her eyes flare up and glow.

"Oh!" Stiles exclaimed, suddenly realizing how obvious it was. If the wolves could use their powers to their advantage, why couldn't Stiles?

He smiled and gave the pair a happy thumbs up before returning to the action with new perspective.

He and Boyd met in the face off this time, and they both set their sticks to the ground as they waited for coach's whistle. Slowly he raised his head to glance at Boyd from beneath the rim of his helmet. His eyes were glowing, and for once it felt cool to be the one doing the intimidating instead of being the guy on the sidelines desperately trying to find a way to cover this up.

Boyd was so stunned that he was momentarily distracted which allowed Stiles enough time to scoop up the ball and dart past him with ease. He was no wolf, but Stiles knew he was quicker than all the humans on the teams, and used that advantage to dart quickly in between them.

"YES, STILES!" Elizabeth cheered as he wound his way closer to the net.

"Stiles, open on your three!" He heard Jackson cry, so he quickly fired a pass off to him before darting into an open space near the net.

Isaac was covering him, but with a gentle nudge of magical energy, Stiles was able to create enough space to catch the returning pass from Jackson and stash it away in the back of the net.

"There you go, Stilinski!" Finstock called out supportively as Jackson and Scott piled on to him, rattling his helmet as they slapped his head affectionately.

"Nice run, Stiles!" Jackson said, and Stiles would be stunned to silence if he wasn't riding a wave of energy.

"Nice pass, dude." He returned to compliment, realizing that perhaps the best way to bond with Jackson was by stroking his ego.

"Seriously dude, that was sick!" Scott added, roughing up his best friend affectionately

On the sidelines Elizabeth was screaming her brains out, stomping soundly on the tin bleachers while she clapped for Stiles. Lydia was a little more composed as she stood to her feet, clapping just as enthusiastically. Erica looked a little miffed that her boyfriend had been tricked, but she still clapped as she shook her head disbelievingly, muttering " _Fucking Stilinski_ " under her breath. Kira was just bouncing in her seat and clapping along with the rest with a smile on her face. And then there was Derek, standing at Elizabeth's side with a begrudging but proud smile on his face while he cheered for Stiles.

He could feel his heart about to burst in his chest.

The coach blew his whistle a few moments later and dismissed the team, telling them to meet the same time on Monday. The pack joined up at the bleachers, speaking excitedly about how it had gone.

"How'd you get him out here?" Isaac asked while Derek turned to talk to Scott.

"I swore I'd clean the loft for as long as I’m here." Elizabeth said with a bit of regret. "Of course I forgot that meant cleaning the kitchen, too. Do you know what it’s like to clean up after werewolves?"

She casually forgot to mention the picture she'd snapped of the five boys huddled together in a pre-practice pep talk which featured all of them with their arms looped about each other's backs. Although Scott and Boyd's backs were facing the camera, the look of misery on Jackson's face as he glared at Stiles laughing at his own joke was worth it. Isaac was rolling his eyes, but Stiles looked happy as could be with the September sun bouncing off his smiling face. She'd sent the picture off with the message 'The boys are back! Quit moping and come watch!!' and fifteen minutes later Derek was there.

Elizabeth had been just as surprised as the rest of the pack, not that she showed it.

Isaac and Stiles laughed at Elizabeth's expense and promised to help her clean up after pack meetings. Isaac went so far as to promise his services to her every weekend, but Elizabeth turned him down with a laugh and a brilliant smile, telling him to enjoy his weekends instead.

They were interrupted by Coach’s gruff voice calling Stiles over to him for a quick chat. Stiles grimaced and assumed the worst as he trotted to Finstock’s side. 

Finstock was looking beyond him to where the pack stood huddled together, and continued to stare as he spoke to Stiles. “Who’s that?” He asked, pointing directly to Elizabeth.  
Stiles followed his finger before turning back to him. “Uh… That’s Elizabeth. She’s new here, moved all the way from Louisiana. Why?”

Coach looked to be mulling something over in his head. “I don’t know…there’s something about her…”

Stiles pulled a face before hitting his coach hard in the shoulder with his lacrosse stick. “Mr. Finstock, gross, she’s a student!”

Finstock seemed to realize, with complete horror, the mistake he’d made and quickly attempted to clarify the situation. “No, Stilinski, Jesus! Nothing like that! I just feel like I’ve seen her before!”

Realization hit Stiles like a train. Finstock remembered her. Finstock recognized her from her first time around BHHS and was now suspicious enough to bring it up to Stiles. His blood ran cold as he attempted to talk his way out of it. “You know, she’s got one of those faces. It’s pretty common.”

“No, it’s not just the face. It’s the name. In fact, I had a student a few years back named Elizabeth…Elizabeth, god what was the name?” Finstock mumbled.

Stiles bit the bullet. “Till?”

Coach snapped his fingers. “Till! Why, what’s your friend’s name there?”

“Till…” Stiles answered honestly, figuring that one way or another, Coach would eventually figure it out.

“You don’t say…” Finstock said, his eyes back on Elizabeth with a calculating stare.

“I think she was named after her aunt or something. It’s a family name. You probably had her aunt back in the day. It’s not like it’s an uncommon name, you know? Plenty of people named Elizabeth in Beacon Hills. It’s a beautiful name, pretty sure it’s royal, too.” Stiles rambled, wildly attempting to distract Finstock.

Coach observed the pack for a few more moments before nodding. “You’re probably right Stilinski.” He patted the boy on the back and smiled wide, which was an action totally foreign to Stiles who had spent a whole six months of his life being called the wrong name by the same man beaming at him right now. “You did great out there today. Keep up the good work and you’ll be first line for sure.”

Stiles just nodded, barely registering what Coach had said as he tried to casually rush back to the pack.

“Guys, we might have a small problem.” He announced.

Instantly the group was tense. “What is it, Stiles?” Scott asked in his Alpha-Voice that Stiles could no longer find intimidating after he heard Scott rehearsing it in the shower.

“Finstock recognizes Elizabeth.”

All eyes fell on the girl in question who was looking crestfallen and nervous. “What does that mean? Do I have to leave the school? I can’t stay?”

“I covered it as best I could, but maybe you should consider a new look?” Stiles offered.

Lydia perked up at the thought and Stiles could hear the gears whirling in her head.

Elizabeth crushed Lydia’s hopes and dreams by changing her look on the spot. Her auburn hair darkened to an inky jet black while her eyes deepened into a rich, chocolaty brown. “Better?” She asked.

“Okay, Mistique, you wanna explain that one to me?” Stiles asked in awe.

Elizabeth simply shrugged. “I was a fugitive from the law, you know. I picked up some concealment charms along the way.”

To further help her case, she did away with the freckles and pulled her septum piercing from her nose and tucked it into her pocket. Stiles thought he could hear Isaac’s heart breaking at the loss of the freckles.

“Unfortunately this is the best I can do.” She said solemnly.

“If I didn't know who you were, I wouldn't recognize you.” Kira said, and the group agreed, so for the time being Stiles allowed himself to believe that the bullet had been successfully dodged.

***

"I'm not wearing that." Derek said firmly.

"Oh come on, Derek, where's your school spirit?" Elizabeth cried as she pulled on the dark maroon jersey. "It’s their first home game, we've got to go!"

And she was right, tonight was not only a home game but also the first game of the entire season. The school was abuzz with excitement, and the lacrosse players were treated like royalty as they roamed the halls. Those who were not on the team were given their friends' away jerseys and asked to wear them to the game to show support. Elizabeth had snatched up Isaac's and Stiles's and laughed when Lydia asked how the hell she "was supposed to make this scrap of trash fashionable."

The pack was enjoying a blissful and quite frankly unnatural break from all things supernatural. In the past month, the biggest thing to happen was Scott getting food poisoning while on a date with Kira and having to have Stiles come pick her up from the restaurant because Scott couldn't leave the bathroom.

Stiles still hasn't let it go.

Lacrosse try outs had ended two weeks after they started school and the boys had all kept very tight lipped about their fate on the team. Derek figured it was because they didn't want to rub it in Stiles and Isaac’s faces that once again they’d be bench warming while the others got to play on the field.

"You can't make me do this." Derek said gravely, bunching the jersey he was expected to wear in his fist.

"We're all doing it, Der! Don't be such a big baby!" Elizabeth whined while tying her dark hair up in a high ponytail, revealing the bold white letters and numbers on the back of her shirt. She spun and presented her back to Derek, who took in the sight of ' ** _LAHEY 14_** ' printed on it. 

He looked down to the fabric in his hands and sneered. From here he could make out the ' _ **SKI**_ ' and the number four which told him that he was expected to wear Stiles's jersey.

"Am I even gonna fit in this thing?" He asked lamely, and Elizabeth saw right through him.

"You know jerseys run large, so quit bitching and put it on. We're leaving in 10." She said simply, sashaying past him to put on pants. In all honesty the shirt was so big on her that she could have worn it as a dress, but for Isaac's sanity, pants were probably the best choice.

With an aggravated sigh Derek tugged his own shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground, tugging Stiles's jersey over his torso and flexing to make sure it fit.

It fit annoyingly well. It was snug in the shoulders and across his chest, but fell loose around his abs and waist.

"You look great, killer. Let's go!" Elizabeth said as she returned from the bedroom in tight black jeans and he combat boots.

Derek was protesting all the way to the field, but that's when he saw Stiles lined up among the other players. His shirt fit almost as snug as Derek's across his shoulders leaving him to ponder what the hell had happened to the lanky kid he met last September that wore suit jackets with t-shirts. His maroon shorts cupped his ass as he hunched over to join in a huddle and Derek's throat ran dry as he imagined stripping the boy of his uniform after the game for a celebratory quickie behind the scoreboard.

They met with the girls on the bleachers and took their place alongside them. Lydia had tied Jackson's jersey tight about her waist in an effort to look feminine, while Erica had embraced it and left it hanging loose from her body, going so far as to put war paint on her face. Kira was positively drowning in Scott's jersey and had decided to screw it all and wear it as a dress. 

A detail which Scott was acutely aware of if the way he was looking over to the bleachers every few minutes was anything to go by. 

When Scott’s brain finally came back on line he noticed Derek and Elizabeth’s arrival and grinned widely before turning to slap both Isaac and Stiles over the head and point to where they were on the bleachers.

Derek’s blood was running hot as Stiles turned to find him. He managed a feeble wave which Stiles returned. Stiles looked genuinely surprised to see him there, but then again, Derek was genuinely surprised he’d come, too. Stiles pointed to Derek’s shirt with a questioning look, and Derek huffed and turned so that Stiles could see ‘ ** _STILINSKI 24_** ’ stretched tight over Derek’s expansive back. When Derek turned back around, Stiles’s cheeks had flushed a deep red and his mouth was working soundlessly.

He was holding up better than Isaac, though, who was using medical gauze to plug up the nose bleed he’d sprung the second Elizabeth had spun around to debut which jersey she’d worn. Poor kid.

Both Isaac and Stiles’s attention was torn away from the crowd when Coach blew his whistle to call them in for another huddle.

Derek’s own attention was pulled from the field when a familiar voice spoke from behind him.

“We've really got to stop meeting like this. It’s making me look like a stalker.” Parish’s familiar voice spoke from behind him, and he could feel Elizabeth’s elbow jabbing him repeatedly in the ribs.

Derek turned to see John and Kyle settling into the open row of bleachers behind them, an open space on left which Derek assumed was being left open for Mrs. McCall. They were both still in full uniform which was attracting attention from all sorts: high school students appreciating Parish’s good looks, and single mothers craning their necks to get a look at the way the Sheriff’s uniform fit snug across his shoulders. Needless to say, Derek was rendered speechless for a moment.

Thankfully for him, he had a friend like Elizabeth to save him from his social shortcomings. 

“Kyle, great to see you again!” Elizabeth said happily, leaning out from behind Derek to get a better look at him. “You look handsome tonight!”

The Deputy just shook his head and smiled softly. “Well, you never who you’re gonna see at one of these things, you know?” He asked, and Derek felt the back of his neck heat up when the Deputy met his eyes.

“So true!” Elizabeth said with a voice so sweet it was giving Derek a toothache. “It’s amazing who you see when you go out, isn't it Derek?”

“Oh yeah, it’s absolutely wild.” He said in a stiff voice.

“Not big on socializing?” Kyle asked.

“I wouldn't say that.” Derek said with a shrug.

“I absolutely would.” Elizabeth interjected, and smiled in the face of Derek’s glare. “You should’ve seen the fight he put up about coming tonight.”

“Well, I hope it was worth it.” The Deputy said shyly.

“Yeah, maybe.” Derek said distractedly, because out of the corner of his eyes he caught Stiles and Scott stretching together on the sidelines, and Stiles’s shirt rode up his back as he bent over and tapped the ground with the tips of his fingers, his hips shifting under the strain of his muscles. Derek suppressed the low whine rising in his throat at the sight, not only because he was in public, but also because the object of his current frustration’s father was sitting three feet away from him, greeting Melissa as she shuffled along the row with a massive poster clutched in her hands.

“Sorry, sorry! Parking was hell, and with all the boys on first line I had to make a bigger poster than I thought. Then Boyd’s glitter was falling off so I had to redo it in the car, which naturally leads to the entire passenger seat getting covered in it and oh—!” She jumped as her eyes landed on Derek. “I didn't expect you to be here, Derek. How are you?”  
“I’m great, Mrs. McCall” Derek said after he’d managed to tear his eyes away from the expanse of skin that Stiles’s jersey was exposing. “Yourself?”

“Now that I’m here, I’m great.” Melissa said as she settled into her seat and unfurled the rolled up poster she held in her hand. It read ‘ ** _PROUD MAMA OF THE FIRST LINE’_** in red glitter, and beneath that, in smaller silver letters it read ‘ ** _#11 #14, #2, #37, & #24_**’. She beamed down at it proudly and graciously accepted the compliments that John and Kira gave her.

Derek eyed the ‘#24’ skeptically before looking down to the ‘#24’ emblazoned on his chest. “Stiles made first line?” He asked out loud, and this seemed to be the thought on everyone’s mind, because they all turned to look at John and Melissa with confusion.

The two looked at each other with matching grins and nodded. “He wanted to keep in a secret until game day to surprise you guys.” The Sheriff explained, and Derek tried to get a grip on the swelling pride in his chest.

And then the referees were taking to the field, and behind them were the players as whistles were blown and coins were flipped. Derek watched as Stiles trotted across the field looking like the picture of confidence; a cocky grin on his face and a swagger in his step that Derek could only attribute to his realization that he was no longer the benchwarmer.

Elizabeth leapt up in her seat and threw her arms in the air victoriously. “ _FUCK YEAH, BOYS! GO GET ‘EM! TEAR THEIR ASSES APART!_ ” She hollered, and the crowd fell into a stunned silence. Elizabeth just looked around the bleachers and shrugged. “COME ON, WHERE’S THE SPIRIT?”

Derek rolled his eyes and decided to bail her out of this one, begrudgingly standing up and climbing atop his own seat before calling out. “ _FUCK ‘EM UP, BEACON HILLS!_ ”

Erica howled her appreciation and sprung up as well, followed quickly by Kira and Lydia who remained standing on the floor as opposed to on their seats, but cheered just as loudly as the players took their positions. Behind them John, Melissa, and Kyle sprung up as well, Melissa thrusting her sign high in the air for the boys to see. The rest of the crowd followed suit, screaming their own crude and vaguely supportive words and starting chants and essentially going insane.

Derek watched as Stiles laughed at this utterly idiotic display of support, his eyes alight with happiness that Derek could feel radiating from him even from this far away. 

Scott had reached over with his stick and tapped Jackson’s hip before using it to point to his mother’s sign, which Jackson read with complete wonder. Derek figured he was surprised that Melissa considered him one of the boys, but then again, she’d been the one to stitch him back together after the run in with the pixies, and once Melissa had seen your insides you were immediately part of her ever growing collection of Lost Boys.

The game got off to a quick start and the boys on the field didn't disappoint. Not even ten minutes into the game Beacon Hills had an intimidating lead over the opposition which was largely due to the supernatural advantage that the home team harbored. Boyd and Isaac were a defensive dream team, their wide, sturdy bodies were practically made for flattening Pine Oak’s offensive line. Jackson, Scott, and Stiles proved to be a lethal combination against the defense: Jackson and Scott’s strength and heightened senses allowing them to see ten steps ahead and knock the defenders easily to the ground while Stiles used his speed and agility to duck and dodge waving sticks and incoming bodies.

For a girl who didn't like lacrosse, Derek found it hilarious just how into the game Elizabeth was. After Isaac intercepted a pass and flattened two incoming Pine Oak players before firing off a pass to another team mate, Elizabeth was on her feet once again.

“ _COGIDA SÍ ISAAC. ESE ES MI CHICO. COGIDA SÍ!_ ” She cried at the top of her voice, and Derek assumed that her tutoring was successful because Isaac beamed and thrust his stick in the air victoriously.

Derek was about to drag Elizabeth back into her seat and explain that _clearly_ Isaac was falling in love with her so could she _please_ not give him false hope when he felt a hand tap his shoulder.

He turned around to see Kyle meddling with his phone and agreed when the Deputy asked if he could show him something.

The Deputy was leaning in and reaching an arm around Derek’s body to show him a picture of the dog he’d rescued from an abused home the other week when a cautionary call of “DUCK” interrupted the story of heroism. Derek looked up in time to see a rogue lacrosse ball hurdling toward Parish’s face, and for a moment Derek thought he saw a flicker of amber light around it before he caught it moments before it could break the Deputy’s nose.

Derek scanned the field and saw Stiles looking a little too innocent where he was kicking at tuffs of grass with his back to the crowd, but his suspicions were confirmed when Coach’s voice rang out across the field.

“What the Hell was that, Stilinski!” He cried.

Stiles turned to face him with a face of mock surprise. “That wasn't me!”

“The pass came from your stick!”

“It was the wind!”

Derek just tossed the ball back onto the turf and settled easily back into his seat.

“Thanks for that. This nose has seen enough traumas; don’t think I need any more.” He said, gesturing to the small bump in his nose that spoke of a past break.

“Fist fight?” Derek asked.

“Prisoner of war, actually. My captors really didn't like Americans, especially the ones with smart mouths.” The Deputy clarified. 

Derek nodded solemnly. “Well, don’t thank me just yet. It could happen again.”

“Is your friend usually this uncoordinated, or am I just a special target?” Kyle asked.

Derek let out a soft chuckle, “I doubt it’s you.” He said, thinking of how clumsy Stiles had been when he’d met him and how much he’d changed since then. He liked to think that in the face of all the other changes Stiles’s body had undergone, it was still hopeless in the face of gravity and all that came with it.

The game was moving smoothly up until the last five minutes. Beacon Hills was winning by a landslide and instead of taking defeat in stride, their opponents decided to rough up the home team as much as possible. It was laughable to see them try to check the wolves, who in turn dropped their shoulders and leveled them with ease, but the humans on the team weren't taking the hits as well and Finstock was rotating injured players on and off the field with alarming frequency. Even Greenberg got to play, and although Derek had no clue what that meant, every student in the crowd looked stunned to see him ambling onto the field. 

“Greenberg’s a special breed of human.” Erica explained as she watched him take his spot on the field. “The other day the art teacher caught him trying to eat the clay from the ceramics class she was teaching because he couldn't wait for lunch.”

Derek’s eyebrows rose as his nose crinkled in disgust. Finstock must be getting desperate to play a guy like that.

The only human who hadn't fallen victim to the opposing team’s dirty play was Stiles, who wove easily between the hits and darted toward the net with determination. Any time someone came to close, Stiles would repel them ever so slightly and slip through the opening.

With just over three and a half minutes left in the game, Stiles’s good fortune ran out. He was blindsided by a boy on the other team who looked more like the Incredible Hulk than a high school student.

Stiles hit and ground hard, and Derek felt the sudden shift in the boy’s emotion. 

Panic.

Stiles was thrashing on the ground and Derek knew the boy was no longer in the present. The Nogitsune had him now, and before he could think he was springing from his seat to run for the field. Hot on his heels was Elizabeth whose eyes were already flaring up and hands were already pulsing with white energy.

When they reached him his eyes were shut tight behind the helmet and he was muttering, “Don’t let me fall asleep, can’t sleep, don’t let me fall asleep.” over and over in a strangled, hushed voice. Elizabeth immediately dropped to his side and let her hair fall around her face and shroud where she clutched Stiles forearm in its black tresses. Her eyes brightened as she began taking away Stiles’s panic.

Scott was by his side as well. He yanked his friend’s helmet from his face and tried to slap him out of it. After the fourth unsuccessful hit Derek reached out and caught his hand in midair.

“You’re not helping.” He said gruffly.

“I can’t just sit here!” Scott cried.

Jackson, Boyd, and Isaac were there as well, looming over Stiles with varying expressions of worry on display behind their face masks.

Finally Elizabeth jerked away from Stiles and his eyes flew open as he sat up and struggled to catch his breath. Elizabeth took a deep breath and let her body fall to the grass beside Stiles. Derek panicked for a moment before he realized that Elizabeth was fine, just winded. Her breathing was steady as she closed her eyes and digested the new waves of emotions coursing through her.

Stiles was rubbing at his reddened cheek with a look of confusion. “Who the hell hit me?”

“Number 9, but don’t worry, we’ve still got a couple minutes to hit him back.” Jackson said ominously.

“No, no, not who checked me. It feels like someone slapped me!” Stiles said.

“Oh.” Scott said sheepishly. “Yeah, that was me. You weren't waking up, man.”

“Why, did you need me for something?” Stiles said with a sly grin as his breathing returned to normal. “Planning on getting stuck in another bathroom?”

Scott laughed good-naturedly as he hauled Stiles to his feet and patted him on the head before handing his helmet back to him. “Three minutes left, wanna go for another hat trick?”

“Oh, you know it!” Stiles said.

“Do you guys want to come back to the loft for a post-win party?” Elizabeth asked as she took Derek’s helping hand and hauled herself up.

Derek almost let her drop again.

The group looked to be leaning toward doing exactly that before Stiles cut in with an icy tone. “I don’t know Eli; does Derek have any other plans for this evening?”

Derek pulled a face, wondering what the hell the boy could possibly be talking about. Right now his evening looked a lot like him, the shower, and his hand having some serious bonding time while he fucked his fist thinking of maroon shorts and defined back muscles.

Not that he was about to say that out loud.

“I don’t know, why?” He opted for instead.

“Oh, I dunno. Thought you and Parish might be getting cozy tonight.” Stiles replied flatly.

“Oh I know!” Elizabeth cried, and Derek was seriously holding himself back from muzzling her with his hand. “Wouldn’t they be the cutest?”

“Adorable.” Stiles grated out. “In fact, if you’d rather do that I’m sure my dad would let us hang out in the basement. Elizabeth, you’re welcome to join. We’ll order pizza. Have a grand old time.”

Derek was floored, and when Derek was floored his go-to defense was anger, and so he replied in spite. “Elizabeth, I think he’s right. I’m gonna need the loft tonight.”

Stiles’s hard face broke for a moment before realigning itself into a look of apathy.

Elizabeth noticed the tension. “Derek…are you sure? You've barely talked to the guy all night…” 

“I’m sure.” He replied before turning back toward the bleachers and stalking to his seat. He immediately turned and asked the Deputy if he’d like to get dinner with him, which he eagerly accepted.

The game ended just as Stiles’s shot on net found its way home and he earned himself his third hat trick of the night. A hat trick of hat tricks, which was practically unheard of. Derek didn't clap for him, but instead grabbed Kyle’s hand and immediately got as far as he could from the field where the resounding chant of “STIL-IN-SKI! STIL-IN-SKI!” was making his ears ring.

 

That night he fucked Kyle Parish into his mattress. In the dim light streaming through the windows, Derek could pretend that the ruffled brown hair and glinting golden eyes belonged to someone else. He could pretend that the maroon jersey lying rumpled on the floor wasn’t distracting him the entire time. He could make believe that Parish had the same scent that drew Derek in, even though Parish’s scent of fresh air and gunpowder was mingling with Derek’s earthy scent and Elizabeth’s floral aroma in a way that didn't sit right with him. He could almost convince himself at when he growled harshly between the Deputy’s shoulder blades it wasn’t to cover the fact that he’d almost choked out Stiles’s name.

But when it was all over, and he was lying in sheets that smelled of Parish and Elizabeth and himself, he could no longer lie to himself or the silence that was surrounding him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SO SORRY PLEASE DON'T HATE ME I'M SO SORRY I HAD TO I'M SORRY
> 
> Okay now that that's out of the way I'd like to thank everyone for keeping up with this story! After a serious lack of lacrosse this season I'm feeling withdrawals and felt the need to write it in somehow.
> 
> Any mistakes are once again my own, and feel free to let me know about any I made. Comments and criticisms are always welcome!!


	12. All Apologies

Deputy Parish was gone in the morning. Derek knew he would be. He’d mentioned something about an early morning shift at the station while at dinner. Derek woke up to an empty bed that still smelled of open air and flowers and the earth. Derek felt just as empty as his bed.

He heard the front door slide open and shut at around noon. He listened as heavy footsteps dragged closer and closer to his room until Elizabeth walked through the door. She immediately kicked off her untied boots and tugged off her pants. She was still wearing the jersey from last night as she climbed into bed beside Derek. He supposed he should have mentioned to Elizabeth how gross that was, but he figured she already knew and didn't care as she settled into his side and wrapped her arms around him. Derek’s nakedness didn't faze her, mainly because the good parts were covered by his sheets, nor did the fact that said sheets were still bunched up in a way that suggested exactly what had gone down the night before. She just laid there with him in silence until he spoke first.

“How was the party?” Derek asked with his eyes closed.

“Party? You mean the Eat Pizza and Drink Warm Soda While You Watch Stiles Brood Party? Because that’s all I did last night. No partying to speak of at all.” Elizabeth said bitterly. “The entire crowd’s cheering his name and the kid just storms off the field. I got to his house and he’s sitting in the basement by himself looking like…” She paused and breathed hard through her nose in a soft laugh that ticked Derek’s skin, “like you, actually.”

Derek didn’t laugh. “Why?”

Elizabeth pulled her head from his chest to look at him. “ _Why?_ ”

Derek opened his eyes to meet her disbelieving look. “That’s what I asked…”

“Maybe because you ran off to screw Parish on one of the biggest nights of the kid’s life? Even you must know what first line meant to him!” She said, poking Derek hard in the chest to express her indignation.

“I thought you’d be happy.” Derek said lamely.

Elizabeth scoffed at him. “Please, Derek. I would be happy for you if you’d actually gone about this the right way!” She said exasperatedly. “Instead you ignore the guy for two months then screw him the second it’s convenient. Parish is a good guy, Derek. Were you even gonna call him after this? Did you even save his number?”

The silence in the room spoke volumes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Derek.”

“What do you want me to do, Elizabeth?” Derek snapped.

“I want you to tell me what the hell you’re thinking!” Elizabeth cried, sitting up quickly to better see his face when she spoke to him. “I want to know what the hell possessed you to take this guy home after you spend the entire night practically stone walling him because you’re off in Derek-World thinking about God knows what!”

Derek figured now was not the best time to tell her that he was thinking about Stiles’s ass in those shorts. “I was thinking that he was interested, and he was good looking, so why the hell not?” Derek answered tersely.

Elizabeth was livid. “Derek Hale, you’re going to call that boy—.”

“Says who?”

“You’re going to call that boy!” She said with a raised voice and a stern finger in his face. “You’re going to call him and thank him for last night. You’re going to tell him you had a wonderful time, but that you’re not ready for a relationship yet. And you’re going to pray that that fine young man doesn't load a pistol and blast your ass for using him like that, do you hear me?”

Derek glared at her for a minute before rolling his eyes and sighing. “I don’t have his number, Zab…”

Elizabeth slid back towards the foot of the bed and reached over to pluck her phone out of the pocket of her jeans. “Where would he be if he didn't have me? Dead in a ditch, probably…” He heard her mumbling to herself as she scooted back up the bed while browsing through her contacts. “Lucky for you, I took his number while we were waiting for you to come to the diner that day.” She said smartly as she waved Kyle Parish’s contact information in Derek’s face. She acknowledged his hesitancy with a raised eyebrow. “Derek Arthur Hale, you better take down this number before I tattoo it to your skin.”

Derek growled but ultimately decided not to fight her. He reached for his pants to find his phone, but instead found Stiles’s jersey still taunting him where it lay on the floor. He tossed it to the other side of the room and slid his jeans closer to him so that he could retrieve his phone. Under Elizabeth’s supervision he typed in Kyle’s number and promised to call him when he knew he’d be off duty.

Now that that was taken care of, Elizabeth melted slightly. She returned to Derek’s side and her dark tresses fanned across his chest, dancing as Derek breathed in and out. After a few more moments of comfortable silence, Derek felt her smirk against his skin.

“Well, how was it?”

Derek snorted, “A gentleman never tells.”

“A gentleman doesn't fuck on his first date.”

“Touché.” Derek said with a chuckle. “It was great, he’s great, Zab. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

But he did know. He knew exactly what was wrong. It stood about six feet tall, had permanent sex hair, and drove the most aesthetically offensive vehicle ever to come off of the assembly line.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Derek.” Elizabeth said softly. “You can’t force yourself to like someone. It’s supposed to just hit you like lightning.”

“You speak from experience?” Derek teased.

“Oh, please.” Elizabeth scoffed. “I could fall in love if I wanted to. But I don’t.” She said simply.

Derek was about to bring up Isaac and his growing infatuation with Elizabeth when he heard Peter gagging in the next room.

“Lord, Derek! Warn a guy, would you?” He called. “A sock on the door, a note on the fridge, anything, really! I shouldn't have to find out you got laid because it smells like a damn brothel in here.” He continued as he entered the room, stopping short as he took in the scene before him. “I’ll be damned. Did it finally happen?”

Elizabeth and Derek rolled their eyes in unison. “No, Peter.” They said blandly together.

Peter’s eyebrows rose before creasing together. “Was it Stilinski?”

Derek’s heart nearly gave out, but Elizabeth covered his stunned silence.

“What the hell makes you think it was Stiles?” She asked, her tone still cold in Peter’s presence.

“Just that I was up rather early this morning and I noticed a young man leaving Derek’s room. I figured it was Stilinski dropping by with news on the new magical foe in town, but now that I think about it…” Peter said with a wicked grin. “Nephew, mine, I didn’t even know you hit for that team. We could have bonded!” He said in mock elation.

Derek wondered if he could kill himself with the power of his own mind.

“It wasn't Stiles. I was with him all night.” Elizabeth clarified.

“Oh, bummer.” Peter said, striding out of the room again. “Congratulations anyway, Derek. Maybe you’ll be more pleasant company now.” He called over his shoulder.

“What a dick.” Elizabeth grumbled as she settled further into the mattress.

“Yeah. Total dick.” Derek said shortly. The fact that Peter had thought, even for a moment, that Stiles and Derek had slept together had planted a seed in his uncle’s mind. Now that he knew about Derek’s well hidden preferences, he had a sickening feeling that this would not be the last time that he and Stiles would be brought up.

“He’s kinda right, though.” She said thoughtfully, and Derek tried so hard not to tense up beneath her.

“About what?” He tried for a casual tone, but failed miserably if the crack in his voice was anything to go by.

“Parish and Stiles, they've kinda got the same thing going on.” She said.

“Never thought about it.” Derek lied.

Elizabeth just hummed thoughtfully, and Derek was ready to do anything it took to derail that train of thought.

“So, the party?” Derek tried again, and this time Elizabeth seemed more open to the topic. Derek thanked every God he’d ever heard of that he’d found something else to talk about. And people said he had no social skills.

“If you ignored Stiles and his literal rain cloud, it was actually pretty fun.” She said happily. “Did you know Isaac can do this thing with a cherry stem where he—.”

Derek tuned her out, listening to the chipper buzz of her voice as he allowed his mind to drift elsewhere: To a place where he’d stayed after the game. Where he hadn't brought Parish home but instead brought back his entire pack and threw on the crappy dub step music that Jackson likes so much. Derek would buy them a pack of beer and watch carefully to make sure that not a single one of them had more than two bottles. They’d celebrate by enjoying each other’s company outside of the tense pack meetings where they debated how best to keep everyone alive in the face of danger.

Jackson and Scott would butt heads about who had the most assists until Kira yanked Scott’s attention away by dropping into his lap and pulling him in for a chaste kiss. Jackson would snort and acknowledge that Scott was a lost cause now and instead turn to Boyd to talk about how the defensive and offensive lines on the team had worked together.  
Erica and Lydia would be side by side discussing the gossip that came from the game: So-and-so had gone to the game with such-and-such’s boyfriend, while such-and-such was caught flirting with the new history TA that was helping in Mr. Merlo’s class which Erica and Lydia both shared together. Derek would tune out their mindless chatter and instead focus entirely on Stiles.

Stiles would be glowing with happiness, a smile present on his face even as Jackson ragged on him for leaving himself open to get blindsided. Stiles would shrug and say he was only human, which the group would groan at because they had to add another horrible pun to Stiles’s repertoire.

He and Stiles would huddle up together and make fun of Isaac as he attempted to woo Elizabeth with his cherry-stem trick. Isaac would overhear them and flick the spit-covered stem at them which would cause Stiles to jerk away from it and crowd himself against Derek’s chest as he cussed at Isaac and called him unsanitary. Derek would lay a soothing hand in the small of Stiles’s back and keep him close, bringing his voice to a low rumble as he told Stiles to relax and have a good time. Stiles would look up into his face with eyes like molten gold and smile so blindingly that Derek would have to blink a few times at the sight of it.

“Derek?”

And then maybe, just maybe, Derek would get his shit together and just go for it. He’d lightly cup Stiles’s jaw and drag his mouth forward those last few inches and kiss him ever so gently, and in that moment he’d forget that there were other people in the room because he finally had what he wanted. It didn't matter where they were because Stiles’s lips would be on his, and they’d be getting greedy and desperate and Derek would comply to Stiles’s silent demands because he was weak, he was so weak when it came to Stiles and he knew it.

“Derek…?”

But the others would still be there and after the initial shock wore off they’d be happy for them. Scott would shout about how it was about time and proceed to tell Derek about every dirty little fantasy Stiles had ever confided in him regarding him, much to Stiles’s horror. Lydia would comment about how everyone saw this coming and how it was so cliché she could slap Nicholas Sparks’s name on it and make millions. Elizabeth would have been clueless to the whole thing and would spend the rest of the night wondering how she, Derek’s closest friend, could have missed this.

“DEREK!”

Derek snapped out of his reverie to find Elizabeth staring at him disbelievingly. “Did you hear anything I just said?”

“No…I wasn't paying attention.” He admitted.

“I figured as much after I said that Scott and Jackson suddenly uncovered their latent homosexual feelings for each other and made loud, passionate love in the Sheriff’s bed.” She said with a laugh before staring at him like he was the most complex puzzle on Earth. “Where do you disappear to in that head of yours, Derek?”

He laughed softly and decided to keep Elizabeth in the dark for just a little bit longer.

***

As it turns out, Elizabeth was just as good at keeping Derek in the dark.

They’d hung around the loft until dinner, and in the meantime Derek had made one of the most terrifying phone calls of his life to Deputy Parish in which he thanked him and apologized just how Elizabeth had told him to. Kyle wasn't put out or upset, but rather laughed and told Derek that it was alright and that he’d see him around town. Derek let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and agreed before hanging up and asking Elizabeth if she was satisfied.

She was, and offered to buy Derek dinner as means of reward for his good behavior. What she forgot to mention what that it was a pack dinner, complete with one very angry Stiles who sat moodily in the booth, tearing at his napkin until it looked like cheap confetti.

As they approached the table, Derek spoke through gritted teeth. “You didn't tell me this was a group outing.”

“Sorry, Der. Must’ve slipped my mind.” She said with a smirk, her currently brown eyes absolutely dancing with mischief. Derek knew that she could rule the world if she wasn't so damn nice.

The group greeted them and made room, save for one broody teenager who was adamant about staying exactly where he was. He didn't seem interested in partaking in any group conversations, not even the ones where Elizabeth would dish on the embarrassing things that happened to Derek in high school which left the entire table in hysterics, save for one mildly pissed off werewolf who didn't like to rehash the subject of how he’d fainted during his Health and Wellness course when presented a video which depicted child birth.

While on the subject of Derek, Erica leaned conspiratorially across the table and pointed to the man in question. “You owe us an explanation.”

“About why I fainted in the face of child birth? Gee, I wonder why.” Derek said defensively.

“No, idiot. About where you were last night!” Erica said. “You grabbed Hot Deputy and bailed. I mean, I could smell the arousal on you from a mile away, but I figured you’d at least stick around long enough to celebrate the win.” She said, letting the accusation hang in the air as her red lips closed around the straw of her soda.

That seemed to get Stiles’s attention. His hands stopped moving and the particular shreds of napkin between his fingers lived to fight another day.

“Yeah, dude, seriously!” Scott added. “Even my mom noticed. She said you were totally out of it all night.”

Derek swallowed thickly. One look at Elizabeth told her that she was in no way, shape, or form bailing him out of this one and he could only assume that this was her plan all along: Make him publicly apologize for running out on the game because he wanted to screw the deputy.

Some best friend she was.

“It was an impulse decision.” Derek said, and it wasn't entirely untrue. The option of bringing Parish home hadn't been on the table until Stiles suggested it.

“Yeah, and I had an impulse to kick your ass for not sticking around, but you don’t see me throwing you across the floor, do you?” Boyd said with a laugh. Clearly he wasn't as cross about this as Stiles was, but Boyd never was one to care about trivial things like this. Derek assumed that the only reason he was here was for Erica and the endless bread sticks.

“I get it, alright, I messed up. I’ll come to any parties you throw from now on. Just don’t make me dance.” He promised, and the group seemed content with that.

But Stiles wasn't. From his body language to the tone of voice he used, Derek could tell that Stiles was not even close to content.

“Did you fuck him?”

The question was so simple, but spoken with such accusation and such malice that Derek forgot how to answer.

“Jeez, Stiles, calm down.” Erica said with wide eyes. “Two consenting adults went home together, what do you think happened? A rousing game of charades and a marathon of _F.R.I.E.N.D.S._?”

She was not helping.

“Well, I was just wondering if bailing on his friends was worth it.” Stiles said with mock innocence.

“He said he was sorry…” Scott said.

“No, actually. He didn't. Pay attention, guys. He said he messed up and that he wouldn't do it again. He never said he was sorry for doing it, which makes me wonder if he really regrets it at all.” Stiles said, and finally he looked at Derek with his eyes speaking of poorly concealed hurt and rage and that third thing that Derek had sensed in the diner but still couldn't place now.

“I’m sorry I bailed.” Derek said firmly. “I’m sorry I didn't stick with you guys.”

“Did he just say ‘I’m sorry.’?” Isaac whispered to Elizabeth. She nodded silently, too stunned to speak.

Derek decided to bite the bullet and continue. “And for the record, no, it wasn't worth it. Because nothing’s worth hurting this pack.”

Scott spilled his drink and Kira spat out the lemonade she’d been drinking. Boyd was choking on his bread stick and Isaac’s eyes were about the size of the plate in front of him. Hysteria broke out at the table, all because Derek Hale actually expressed his feelings.

“Did someone get that on tape?” Boyd asked as soon as he could breathe.

Derek just rolled his eyes and looked to Stiles, who had softened exponentially at Derek’s admission. He would go so far as to say he looked relieved. 

Jackson held up his phone victoriously. “I got the last bit. I started recording as soon as he said the first ‘I’m sorry’!” He played it back, and the pack passed the phone around and watched Derek bear his soul over and over and over again until Derek was considering committing an act of violence in the middle of an Olive Garden.

“Oh, lighten up, Der!” Isaac said as he wiped tears from his eyes. “Consider this our way of getting even.”

“So do you think you’ll see Hot Deputy again?” Erica asked excitedly. “He’s a hard 9.5 Derek, you’d be an idiot not to.”

Derek winced at the sound of clattering silverware from Stiles’s end of the table, but ignored it as he pressed on. “I don’t think that’s what’s right for me right now.”

Erica cried out in indignation while wielding a fork at him, threatening that if he didn't jump all over that she’d disown him as a friend.

“Seriously, man.” Scott said in a grave voice. “What if he goes crazy because you dumped him and starts sacrificing people?”

“Where the Hell would you get an idea like that?” Elizabeth cried.

Scott shrugged, “Dude, Derek attracts the crazies.”

At that moment their waiter; a pretty redhead with arms covered in tattoos and bracelets, dropped their orders in front of them. With a blush and a wave, she dropped a piece of paper in front of Derek with her number on it.

Lydia laughed as she snatched the paper from Derek’s place mat. “Do we think that the waitress is crazy now, too, Scott?”

Jackson laughed along and took the paper from Lydia, reading the ‘ _Text me anytime ;)_ ’ and snorting. “Better call Deaton and see what he has on any supernatural creatures that like to work at the Olive Garden.”

The group continued to laugh, but one laugh was missing from the chorus. Derek knew because it was his favorite laugh of the bunch and its absence was always noticed. Stiles sat hunched over his spaghetti dinner in the corner, twirling his fork through the pasta and glaring at it like it had personally wronged him.

As the laughter died down the others noticed Stiles’s silence as well.

“What’s the matter, Sti?” Elizabeth asked sweetly.

“Hm? Nothing!” Stiles replied quickly.

“Come on, man. If Derek can share his feelings, you can share yours.” Boyd said with a laugh.

Stiles just shook his head. “It’s nothing, really.”

“Oh, I think I know!” Lydia said, sounding like she’d just solved a particularly difficult math problem. “You were crushing on the waitress!”

The entire table broke out into understanding groans of sympathy, and Stiles just laughed humorlessly over his plate of spaghetti. “You caught me, guys.”

“What’s with you and red heads, Stilinski?” Jackson asked while wrapping an arm about Lydia’s waist subconsciously. 

“Dunno, something about them, I guess.” Stiles responded flatly, and Derek felt his heart sink just the slightest bit. For a fleeting moment he wondered what he’d look like as a red head before mentally gagging at the thought. Laura had experimented with her hair in her junior year and it was safe to assume that orange didn't go well with Hale genetics.

Derek stabbed at his side salad with purpose.

On their way out almost half an hour later, Derek tossed the waitress’s number in the trash outside of the restaurant. 

Stiles noticed with carefully concealed glee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO AGAIN so I did a rating change, not because of anything to do with this chapter, but in the upcoming future I might as well go big or go home SO.
> 
> Thanks for reading, you guys are so great and I love the feedback!! I hope this chapter makes up for Derek's dick-ish behavior. You can always count on Elizabeth to set his ass straight.


	13. Halloween

Halloween was Stiles’s favorite night of the year. The ritual was usually the same: Hand out candy to the kids while his dad worked tirelessly against the hooligans of Beacon Hills and when the doorbell stopped chiming him and Scott would become the hooligans that his father was looking for by T.P.ing Finstock’s house.

Naturally, this year just _had_ to be different.

The Sheriff had called Stiles immediately after receiving a call that sounded less like a crime and more like a supernatural occurrence. Stiles had whined around a mouth full of Skittles, begging his dad not to make him fight evil on Halloween night, berating his father for even thinking about putting his one and only beloved son in danger like that. The Sheriff had ignored his dramatics completely, instead opting to give Stiles the address and the ultimatum of rounding up his friends to go fight this thing, or doing the dishes for the next month, by hand, with no gloves and no magic.

Stiles had Scott on the phone before his dad could say, “Cascade”.

***

“Do we know what it is we’re looking for?” Scott asked as he hopped off of his motorbike at the designated meeting place: an abandoned gas station a few miles down the road from where the 911 call was made.

“No, all we've got is a dark figure darting through the trees. Could be a deer, could be the abominable snowman looking to buy real estate in Beacon Hills, who knows? All I know is I’m trying to get out of here before this night goes completely to waste.”

“Didn't you say you were giving out candy while your dad was at work?” Kira asked knowingly, accepting the hand that Scott offered as she slipped off the back of the bike. It wasn't until she’d straightened out that Stiles realized that she and Scott had channeled Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swan this evening, which Stiles found a bit funny because now Kira’s swords looked so commonplace hanging off of her hips in their designated sleeves.

“Yes, poppet, I was!” Stiles teased in a mock British accent, “However,” he said after returning to his normal voice, “When it died down with the trick-o-treaters I was hoping we could do something together.”

“Absolutely, bro. You know we T.P. Finstock’s yard every year, I wouldn't miss that for the world.” Scott said brightly, earning an affectionate eye roll from his girlfriend.

Searing bright headlights shone on them from down the street, and it was a toss-up between whether it was Derek or Jackson, but a few revvs of the engine let them know that it was most certainly the latter. The silver Porsche slid smoothly into the parking lot, jerking to a halt mere inches from Scott’s motorbike. The man himself sprung from the driver’s side in a smart white cashmere sweater with a blue collared shirt poking from the top, paired with an orange ascot

“You get lost trying to find the country club, Jackson?” Stiles heckled.

Jackson glared at him, and then rolled his eyes heavenward, obviously pleading with the Lord to give him the good strength it took to deal with Stiles Stilinski.

Lydia popped out next, and it became perfectly apparent who they were supposed to be, aided by Lydia’s purple dress paired with a green scarf tied closely about her neck.

“Mystery gang!” Kira noted with an appreciative head nod, “I dig.”

“We tried to get Isaac to be our Shaggy, but no such luck.” Lydia said bitterly, as if Isaac could not have betrayed her as much as he did when he turned down such an incredible opportunity.

“Guessing he’s riding with Derek, then?” Scott asked.

After getting the affirmative from Lydia, the group resigned to waiting for the rest of the pack in comfortable silence. The few words exchanged told Stiles that Lydia and Jackson were on their way to a party when they were interrupted by Scott’s call to get together.

Stiles caught Jackon’s eyes raking up and down his body on a multitude of occasions, and by the seventh time, he spoke up, “Do you want me to pose while you take the mental picture, or what, buddy?”

“I’m trying to figure out what the Hell you are, man. You look like you do every time you come back from one of these fights. Not seeing the costume, here.” He replied hostilely, crossing his arms across his chest and shooting Stiles one last judgmental look before turning to say something to Scott.

“Hey, I’m supposed to be Red Riding Hood: Grandma Lover by day, Werewolf Assassin by night!” Stiles explained, gesturing to his body as if it was now completely obvious what he was supposed to be. He wore a bloody white t-shirt with five gashes artfully cut into it, spanning the width of his chest, beginning at his left shoulder and spreading down to his right hip. The best part was that it wasn’t even fake blood.

Granted, it was his own blood and came from a particularly nasty run-in with a particularly nasty goblin, but in the spirit of Halloween, it just looked downright cool.  
He’d put on his oldest, rattiest red hoodie, which had been sitting in his closet since the beginning of sophomore year, and paired it with black, torn skinny jeans that were stuffed half-hazard into heavy combat boots that he’d bought on a whim and then realized that his legs were still a bit too skinny to pull of that look just yet. Nevertheless, they looked badass now, and he’d strapped a couple of his dad’s old leg-holsters around his left and right thighs for added badassery. He thought he’d done a pretty good job, and the kids who’d come to his door seemed to think so, too.

“Points for creativity!” Kira said cheerfully, nodding along with Scott while Lydia shrugged and added, “Not bad, actually.” much to Jackson’s chagrin.  
Good old Kira, Stiles knew there had to be a good reason they kept her around.

A blaring horn startled the group, reflexively getting into fight stance before realizing that it was only the sleek black Camaro, moving alarmingly fast down the street, bass thrumming and rattling the windows. It was unlike Derek so be so tactless when coming into a hunt, and Stiles wondered what could be so different this time. His question was answered when the Camaro whipped into the parking lot, skidding to a stop beside Stiles, the driver’s window rolling down to reveal a pair of deep brown eyes alight with mirth.

“Hey Little Red!” Elizabeth drawled, taking in Stiles appearance and shouting a bit over the screeches of Angus Young on the radio, “Had I’d known we were doing couples costumes, I’d’ve made Isaac here my Superman.” She paused for a moment as her face twisted into a thoughtful expression. ‘Course that’s only in the New 52 ‘verse, and I’m not sure if I’m buying into it just yet.” She scrunched up her face in mild disgust, “Why they keep cheapening Wonder Woman with love stories is beyond me.”

Derek emerged from the passenger side, looking red in the face and murderous, as if he’d spent the entire car ride yelling, which come to think of it, he probably had. He hadn't put the slightest effort into a costume, and Stiles wasn't the least bit surprised. He supposed that with the leather jacket, he could pass as Danny from Grease, or perhaps he could be the Big Bad Wolf, and Stiles thought fleetingly of the way Little Red Riding Hood ended, with the wolf closing in and sinking sharp teeth into soft skin.

“Earth to Stiles, hello?” Erica’s voice called to him, waving in front of Stiles’s glossy eyes. She gave him a smirk and a shake of the head before turning to the group which was now huddling together within the brigade that their respective cars had formed, clearly trying to devise a plan. 

Stiles shook himself and joined the group, standing between Harley Quinn and The Joker, or as Stiles liked to call them, Erica and Boyd. He’d arrived just in time to hear Derek’s agitated voice grinding out a harsh, “I lost a bet, alright Jackson? That’s why she was driving. Can we move on now?” which Stiles was grateful he got to hear. He’d have to check up on the terms of that bet later.

“Alright Stiles, you got the call first, what can you tell us?” Derek asked, his voice a fraction calmer as he turned his attention on the boy.

“Well, not much. Some dodgy shadows in the woods, some animal activity, I think. Could be anything.” Stiles shrugged.

“Alright, in that case, we don’t know what we’re up against here, so I want you guys prepared for anything.” Derek warned, his eyes lingering a moment longer on Stiles, and the skin exposed through his t-shirt. Stiles nodded gravely, knowing that Derek was probably thinking of the goblin attack, and how Stiles had ended up worse for wear. He watched Derek swallow thickly after finally shifting his eyes away. “Scott, divvy up the groups. Divide and conquer.”

Scott looked surprised to be given this task, but he took it in stride anyway. He kept it practical, trying to keep at least one werewolf in every group. He obviously took Kira, no surprise there, and Elizabeth made a point that although she loved everyone in the pack, she felt most comfortable working with Derek, and so Scott lumped those two into a group with Stiles, whose magical training was still in the works and could probably benefit from Elizabeth’s guidance. This left Jackson, Isaac, and Lydia with each other, and Erica and Boyd to hold their own together. The groups divided to discuss strategy, each team knowing the goal was to take this thing down and stay safe doing it.

Small hands yanked Stiles down to eye-level. “You feelin’ confident about gettin’ out there? I know we've gone through a lot of combat training already, but I don’t wanna have you out there performing magic you’re not ready for.” Elizabeth said, looking every bit as concerned and earnest as she sounded. Derek stood close behind her, his expression stoic and his arms crossed over his chest.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Stiles said, and that seemed enough for Derek, because he turned away from the group and made for the woods, following a couple meters behind Erica and Boyd. When he was far enough away, Stiles told Elizabeth to, “Stay close to me.”, under his breath. She nodded her agreement as they trotted to catch up with Derek.

By the time that each group had found a different stretch of territory to search, a dense fog had settled in the woods, creating an atmosphere that Stiles could have appreciated had this been a normal Halloween where he and his friends would be smashed and passing around a flashlight while they told ghost stories and gorged on candy until they passed out or puked. That being said, he didn't like not being able to see five feet in front of him.

“Can you do anything about the fog, Zab?” Derek asked, seeming to be on the same page as Stiles. Granted the guy had super hearing, so he couldn't possibly be as helpless as Stiles, but it was nice to know that someone else wasn't getting good vibes from the rolling mist either.

“No can do, sorry. Control of the weather would fall under ‘practical magic’, which I haven’t learned yet.” She said sadly, squinting into the fog right along with them.

A sudden shift in the air was all the warning Stiles got before an ice cold hand slipped around his throat and spun him around, pinning him to a tree and effectively gagging him, his legs flailing a foot off the ground. He caught a flash of fang and a soft hiss before the creature drew close to the space between his neck and shoulder. He screamed a curse that Elizabeth had taught him that made your skin burn at the touch of others and it sent the monster reeling backwards, shrieking loudly at the pain of its skin sizzling off at the places it had touched Stiles. It was back on him in a moment, and Stiles delivered a hard elbow to what he could only assume was a face.

“You alright, Sti?” Elizabeth’s worried voice called out from somewhere beyond the fog, but Stiles could tell by her breathlessness and the random bursts of white light that she was dealing with her own monster. He took a moment to catch his breath.

He also heard the sound of Derek’s roar, further away from where he’d heard Elizabeth’s voice, but close enough that he wasn't concerned. “Stiles, answer her!” His voice cut through the fog, sounding aggravated but also just this side of worried.

“All good, got him on the ropes!” Stiles said as he turned to face his attacker, distinguishable only by the dark silhouette it created in the mist. “Come on out, don’t be shy.”

When the creature was close enough for Stiles to get a good look, he was wishing he’d asked it to remain shrouded in darkness. They must have happened upon a vampire nest; Stiles recognized the pallid, almost translucent appearance of its skin and the lifelessness of their black eyes from one of the many books he’d borrowed from Derek’s bookshelf. This was no Edward Cullen, Stiles realized as the vampire lurched at him, and it’s horrifically elongated limbs attempted to find purchase on him. This was real. This was so real. He didn’t even have a clove of garlic on him, not that he thought that’d really do him any good, but another legend might, if he’d interpreted the text of the ancient books correctly.  
Stiles raised both hands before him defensively, before saying calmly, purposefully, “ _Creavit solem._ ”

For a moment he thought he lit himself on fire, and thought of the terrible teasing he’d endure from Derek if he’d managed to screw up a spell on his first night out on a hunt. Then he realized his spell had worked, only not quite the way he’d imagined it would when he read it. His entire body was glowing, a dazzling beacon in the dead of night, cutting through the fog and illuminating the area around him for at least a hundred feet. The vampire before him didn't exactly run away with its tail (Stiles knew they didn't have tails, but work with him here,) between its legs, but it did flinch away for a moment and wail in a horrible, baritone voice that shook Stiles’s bones.

“Atta boy!” He heard Elizabeth cry, and turned to see her knock three vamps on their sorry asses at once, thanks to the light that now made it easier to see exactly what it was she was aiming for. “Keep that up; we’ll have the Drac Pack out of here in no time.”

It was obvious that she and Derek were carrying most of the weight here, but Stiles was happy to be helping in any way he could. If that way so happened to be posing as a human flashlight, so be it. He refocused his attention on his vampire, sending various spells and curses its way, occasionally tossing in a few physical defensive and offensive attacks when he saw the opening, all the while lighting up the woods with his entire being.

“Zab, on your six!” He heard Derek call, and turned to watch Elizabeth get tackled to the ground by a vampire that had descended from the trees. Stiles looked up in a panic, but it seemed that only that particular vampire had taken refuge in the trees. If it were smart, it would've stayed there, because Derek rushed in mere moments after Elizabeth hit the ground, a small horde chasing after him, but not able to keep up with his werewolf speed. He sank his claw into the back of its neck and severed the bone, tearing at it until the entire head came off. 

Stiles allowed himself to feel a moment of disgust when Derek hummed the head in his direction, but as he followed the trajectory, he saw that Derek had thrown it straight into the face of the vamp Stiles had been fighting, so hard that Stiles heard more than saw the bones in the creature’s face break before it crumpled to the ground. Stiles threw his arms up and turned to let out a victory ‘BOO-YAH!’, but the word died in his mouth as he saw the vampire hoard descend on Derek and Elizabeth, caging them in and crawling over one another horribly in order to get to their prisoners.

“No! No!” He heard Elizabeth scream desperately before he heard a blood curdling howl of agony and his heart immediately fell to his stomach, jackhammering about in his intestines, clenching tightly as he shouted, “ _DEREK_!” because he knew exactly what that roar meant.

More vampires were coming, he could see them scrambling in the distance, emerging from behind trees and materializing from the fog that Stiles’s light wasn't shining on. Stiles was ready to join the pile of vampires atop his friends when a burst of pure white light flung the entire hoard off of them.

When the light dimmed, he saw Elizabeth standing above Derek, who was holding his own chest and coughing a miserable, wet cough that sounded like it meant nothing but trouble. Her chest was heaving, and so was Derek’s, though Stiles imagined it was for two very different reasons. “Stiles.” She said, and her voice a low rumble that sounded to Stiles the way venom must feel when it enters your blood stream. “Watch Derek. Don’t let a single blood sucker near him, you hear me?” 

Stiles nodded, his all-encompassing light fading as Elizabeth’s own light flared around her, not in the same way Stiles’ had, but in a way that made her look as though she was surrounded by an angelic aura. 

Her actions that followed, however, were anything but angelic. They seemed like the fantasy of every sick minded demon in Hell brought to life on Earth. She was positively shrieking with rage, every curse landing with sickening accuracy. Some vampires were decimated to ash, others to a revolting black slime, and yet there were still others that she slashed at wildly with violent flicks of her wrist until their skin was nothing more than tattered ribbons hanging from their sickly frames. She was dancing and twisting about, avoiding the bodies that were dropping at her feet left and right. 

It was in that moment that Stiles remembered with frightening clarity that Elizabeth wasn't really an eighteen year old doe-eyed girl. She was a 500-year-old powerhouse. She was The White Witch. Centuries worth of emotion was bubbling and frothing beneath the surface of her illuminated skin, and Stiles was reminded of their first training session, the words 'A primal need to defend what's mine' echoing in his head as he watched her lose control of herself, the ground cracking ominously beneath her boots. It was an impressive display, and Stiles knew he'd be in about the same state if Scott was the one with his chest torn open, but it was still sobering to see none the less

As Stiles settled down at Derek’s side, taking in with a retching sound the sight of a dozen bite-and-tear marks all along Derek’s torso, he realized that perhaps Elizabeth wasn't deserving of the pedestal he’d placed her on. As with everyone he’d ever held in high esteem, he initially categorized them as ‘flawless’, take one Lydia Martin for example, but it was hardly ever long before Stiles finally acknowledged that people were people, and everyone had their own chinks in their armor. Scott had his hero complex. Lydia had her vanity. Derek had his constant self-depreciation…

…And apparently Elizabeth had white-hot wrath and a vindictive side that could level a nest of vamps like she was swatting flies. Stiles mentally added, ‘Scarier than all the hounds of Hell’ to Elizabeth’s growing list of character traits that he had going on in his head.

It was oddly comforting to know that there was a rather large, gaping crack in Elizabeth’s armor, though Stiles wished he’d found out about it at another time, in another situation, because right now he was wishing she had no reason to be the vicious animal she was right now, and that he wasn't practically holding Derek together with shaking hands on his gushing chest. 

“You’ll be okay, Derek. C’mon, stay with me. Liz is taking care of ‘em, don’t you worry. They’re not gonna get us, you’re safe with us. You’re safe with me, Der. Keep fighting.” Stiles kept talking, words spilling out of his mouth before he was able to run them through his (albeit small) filter. 

He flexed his grip on Derek’s chest and the man beneath him howled in pain. Stiles apologized profusely, turning his head to look over his shoulder and scream for Scott and then for Isaac. He didn't know how much longer he could take the sight of all this blood, and he didn't want to pass out and leave Derek uncared for to bleed out in the woods.  
Instead he got Jackson who Stiles watched sprinting through the fog before he skidded the last few feet to come to a halt at Derek’s side. “Stiles, what happened?”

“He was swarmed, the idiot, oh God.” Stiles said. His hands couldn't stop moving, though he knew how bad it must be hurting Derek. “Jackson, get the keys out of my pocket and bring the Jeep out here. Put her in four wheel drive and she’ll be fine.” Stiles said, eyes flicking from Derek’s gaping wounds and pale face to Jackson’s equally pale and panicked face.

“Stiles, I don’t know how—“

“You drive dumbass, get the keys and go! He’s gonna die!” Stiles shouted with an authority in his voice he didn't know existed.

Jackson nodded, and shuffled around to Stiles’s side before pulling the keys from his pocket. He stood to run, but stopped and turned back to Stiles, “Where are we gonna take him?”

“Deaton.” Stiles said simply, “Now go!”

“Stiles, that looks pretty bad, what if—“

“I SAID, _GO_!” Stiles roared, his eyes glowing a shimmering amber color, and Jackson was sent flailing backwards a solid twenty feet without Stiles having to lift a finger from Derek’s open chest. If he wasn't panicking, he’d have been proud of himself. 

He watched Jackson pull himself together and scamper in the direction of the cars. Jackson was arguably the fastest one besides Scott. Stiles knew it was only a matter of minutes until Jackson returned.

Another body dropped down beside his, and he turned to see Isaac with his face covered in blood and two deep puncture wounds on his neck. When he caught Stiles staring, he explained how a vamp had him pinned to a tree and was really starting to do damage on his blood supply when Lydia landed a devastating headshot, effectively ending snack time.

“What I want to know is what happened to this guy.” He concluded, his eyes raking over Derek’s still body. The only sign that he was still alive was the occasional flutter of his eyelids and soft, guttural groans. 

“At least fifteen vamps at once.” Stiles said.

Isaac looked over to where Elizabeth was still stacking bodies with scary efficiency, “And she’s unleashing the eighth layer of Hell because…”

“This happened while he was protecting her.” Stiles said, looking down at Derek with pity, the guy never knew when to stop, and Stiles was just beginning to wonder if Derek was the one with the hero complex when a set of headlights shone through the woods, and the Jeep jerked its way toward them until Jackson eased to a stop beside them. 

He jumped from the car and bolted to Derek’s side, leaving the driver’s side door wide open to make a quick getaway. “How’re we gonna get him in without hurting him?”

Isaac looked intently at Stiles, “You gotta levitate him in.”

Stiles gawked at him, “What if I screw it up? What if I hurt him more?”

Isaac leveled with him, “If you don’t, he dies.”

And God help him if that didn't light a fire under Stiles’s ass. Isaac moved to open the passenger side door and shifted the front seat forward so that Stiles could, ever so gently, slip Derek’s body into the back seat without causing any more damage. When he was secure, Stiles let out a breath he didn't know he was holding and smiled weakly at the pat on the back he received from Jackson.

“You guys need to get back to your groups, they need you. Jackson, Lydia is only human!” Stiles said, panic setting in when he realized that although Lydia was getting damn good at self-defense, a human could never survive the attack Derek did, if Derek survived at all…

“Our groups combined, Erica and Boyd’ve got them, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go, Jackson. Someone needs to tell them what happened and where we’re going.” Isaac said.

Jackson hesitated for a moment, but ultimately agreed, darting back into the fog to find the others.

Stiles was rounding the front of the car and asking Isaac if he’d heard from Scott and Kira when he narrowly missed taking a severed larynx to the face. His head snapped to where Elizabeth’s light had finally dimmed around her, and she stood there looking like Carrie on prom night, her eyes burning with anger and her shoulders tense, and hands positively quivering with rage.

“Get in, quick.” Stiles said, no longer finding it within him to give one fifth of a fuck about the state of his upholstery after tonight. With Derek bleeding out in the backseat and Elizabeth rubbing the blood of their enemies into the front, the state of his car was number 99 on his list of problems.

They fled the woods as quickly as they could, trying not the jostle the car too much with Derek in such a sensitive state. When they finally broke on to the main road, however, Stiles put his foot through the floor and was edging on 90 mph the entire ride to Deaton’s. He snuck a glance across the bench every once in a while to make sure everyone was alright. 

Isaac was pawing at the bite mark on his neck like it was a mosquito bite, and Elizabeth seemed like she was calming down, though her eyes never left the rear view mirror as she kept a steady look out on the werewolf in the back, whose eyelids were still fluttering, thank God.

They looked like the beginning of a bad joke, ‘Waldo, Wonder Woman, and Red Riding Hood walk into a veterinarian’s office…’, though in the joke, Stiles was pretty sure he wouldn't be watching as Elizabeth levitated Derek through the front door and into the back, where Deaton was already waiting thanks to a call made by Isaac when they were five minutes away.

“I need to be alone with him, now.” Deaton said in that calm and tranquil voice that usually put Stiles at ease, but now it had him on edge, his entire body willing him to stay by Derek’s side, to make sure he was alright…

“I’m staying.” Elizabeth said firmly, and pushed past him with little resistance into the operation room. Despite Deaton’s wavering policy on Elizabeth’s presence, his view on Stiles and Isaac being in the room was final. He dead bolted and locked the door, dusting mountain ash along the floor before turning to the werewolf on the table who barely looked like he was hanging on. 

After taking his frustration out of the steel door, Isaac turned and sat in one of the many chairs in the room, his head in his hands.

Stiles sat next to him after a few more moments of staring at the steel door. Drumming his fingers against his thigh impatiently, he asked, “Do you think he’ll be okay?” His voice so weak, he barely recognized it as his own.

“Course he will, it’s Derek.” Isaac said. Stiles knew he was trying to be optimistic, and he appreciated that. It’s what he needed right now.

Thirty minutes later, Jackson was stumbling through the front door, his clothes tattered and bloody and his eyes wide and scared. He took a moment to compose himself before speaking. “We cleared out the nest. I took Derek’s car and Lyd took mine home, I came back here as soon as I could. I got Erica and Boyd; too, they’ll be in in a minute. They needed to get a fang out of Boyd’s shoulder.”

“Scott and Kira?” Stiles asked, beginning to worry about how little he’d heard of his best friend and his girlfriend.

“He’s bringing her home, she’s not happy about it, either. She wanted to come, too.” Jackson said as he sat down on the other side of Stiles, looking like he’d love nothing more than to lie down on the floor and never wake up. “That was brutal.” He said softly. “Where’s Eli?”

Stiles tilted his head towards the steel door.

“Why aren't you two in there?” Jackson asked.

Isaac and Stiles shrugged, and the three fell into exhausted silence, barely lifting their heads to greet Erica and Boyd when they stumbled in through the door, Boyd’s shoulder taped up tightly by Erica’s masterful hands.

It wasn't until Scott blew through the door that Stiles even spoke.

“Where is he?” Scott asked immediately.

“In there with Deaton and Liz.” Stiles said, pointing vaguely in the direction of the door. “Scott, it’s bad.”

“I know. On the way here I was on the phone with Lydia. She hit the books as soon as she got home, and you know what? All that beef that you hear about between vampires and werewolves? There’s a reason for it. She was telling me that vampire venom screws with our healing process.”

“And here I was, thinking it was because Bella picked Edward.” Stiles said dryly, his eyes now searching Scott’s face for any more information. “But he’s gonna be alright, right?”

Scott’s eyes flicked to his friend’s, “’Course man, it’s Derek.”

“Everyone keeps saying that…” Stiles said.

“Yeah, maybe because the guy’s the terminator. You saw him take Peter’s claws through the chest at the school.” Jackson supplied, sounding like he was trying to convince himself as much as Stiles that Derek would be alright.

“Don’t forget when he went over the rafters in the Alpha fight. No way are a couple of blood suckers taking him out.” Boyd added in his calming voice. “In fact, I’m sure he’s telling the Grimm Reaper to fuck himself as we speak.”

The group laughed at that, the idea of Derek in a showdown with death itself and coming out victorious was comforting, and Stiles was now truly feeling better. He had no reason to worry. Derek would come back to his pack; he was too stubborn to die.

***

Deaton emerged from behind the door a tense two hours later, and he looked as though he’d been through hell and back. “Give me a minute.” He pleaded with the six young faces that crowded him at the door, all of which were trying to sneak a glance back into the room.

Stiles looked ready to pole-vault over Deaton if it meant seeing Derek. “Deaton, c’mon, it’s been hours.” Stiles pleaded.

“So what’s another ten minutes?” He asked, closing the door firmly behind him and taking a seat in one of the waiting chairs, his body sagging beneath the weight of what appeared to be the entire universe. Scott crouched in front of him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for doing this, man. We wouldn't know who else to call.” He said tenderly, giving Deaton’s shoulder a fleeting rub before standing up and joining his friends at the silent and nervous vigil around the door.

“He’s alive.” Deaton offered.

The entire gang whooped gleefully, and Scott immediately stepped away to call Kira and tell her the news while Jackson shot a text off to Lydia.

“So can we go in there?” Isaac asked, and he was backed up by Erica’s desperate “Please, please, please!”

Deaton gave a non-committal wave of his hand, and that was good enough for Stiles, who jerked the door open and kicked the mountain ash aside, stumbling into the room backed by five anxious teenagers who all froze when they observed the damage.

Derek’s chest was a mess of half-healed wounds, scars, bite marks, and stitches. Stiles wondered how Deaton counteracted the vampire venom, and was about to turn around and ask him when a small body fitted against his side, leaning heavily on him as small arms wound about his waist. He looked down to see Elizabeth, still covered in blood, with her eyes drooping low and her mouth trying to work out words.

“Hey, how’d it go? Is he gonna be alright?” Stiles asked her.

She nodded slowly, “’S gonna b’fine, Sti.” She slurred, her face pushing into his chest. “Deaton an’ I fixed ‘im up good.”

“I can see that.” Stiles said, and he turned around to ask the others to bring in chairs that they could put around the room so that she could rest. They returned with enough chairs for everyone, Deaton returning to the room as well.

“Good to see The Joker and Miss Quinn fighting the good fight.” Deaton said softly as he passed Erica and Boyd, placing a soft hand on each of your shoulders, “Stop by more often, will you?” And they nodded their agreement before sitting down. Erica relaxed into Boyd’s shoulder and he resumed stroking her back softly, both of their gazes out of focus and unwavering as they stared at Derek’s body on the cold slab of metal.

“You should go home, Lil Red. We got him.” Elizabeth said as discreetly as she could in a room full of werewolves, “You did great t’night, he wasso proud, I could tell.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the gut, and his eyes lifted to look at his friend, lying unmoving and so pale in the bright light shining on the operation table.

“I’m not going. Can’t make me.” His eyes shifted over to Scott, who was resting his head against the wall with his eyes closed, but Stiles could tell he was very much aware of his surroundings because his entire body tense. “I’m staying with Scott.” Stiles added, and he almost believed himself when he told said that was the only reason he was staying.

Elizabeth pursed her lips, as if she was seriously debating fighting him on this, before sighing and giving the “’’kay” that Stiles didn't need, but took any way. She pulled a seat right up next to Derek and rubbed her small hand against the top of his, moving in soothing circles around each of his knuckles before cycling back and starting again.

Stiles suddenly craved that type of intimacy. He knew that Derek and Elizabeth were as platonic as he and Scott were, but that didn't change the fact that their bond was so strong that she didn’t even hesitate to place herself as close to him as possible, to dole out all of Derek’s medical information to Deaton as if she had it memorized, and to stand by his side through the gruesome surgery and watch her friend’s life hang in the balance, as if her very presence would convince him to keep fighting. 

Hell, maybe it would. Who the Hell knew what kept Derek fighting inside that head of his? Stiles was nodding off in his chair ten or so minutes later, and his last conscious thought was that he hoped whatever Derek was fighting for, Derek would eventually get it.

***

Derek’s body felt weightless but there was a pressure in between his ears that made him want to tear at his hair until he could alleviate the pain. It was cold where he was, it was cold and his clothes were both hanging off his skin and sticking to it at the same time. Brilliant shades of blue were passing before his eyes as light refracted around him. His body rested against a hard surface, sunken like stone and just as stagnant. Try as he might, his body wouldn't obey his commands. The pressure was getting to him and he was acutely aware that he wasn't breathing.

Panic was setting in as he frantically tried to find his bearings and figure out where he was.

When all hope seemed lost and his world was starting to spin, his world of blues was stained with a flash of red. Red that was drawing closer to him, wrapping its arms around him and dragging him up…up… and finally…

 

Derek shot up and struggled to catch his breath. The light above his head was too bright, and the metal beneath his skin was too cold, but there was something in his hand that was just right. He turned his head to his right and saw Elizabeth passed out with her head resting on the operation table of Deaton’s office. Behind her Stiles was dosing as well, his head resting uncomfortably against the wall which was surly straining his neck.

Derek flexed his fingers around Elizabeth’s which was enough to startle her awake. Derek smiled wryly as he watched her rub her eyes against the palm of the hand not currently clasped in Derek’s.

“Morning, sunshine.” Derek said teasingly.

“Morning, dumbass.” She snapped back. She blinked until her eyes regained their sharp focus and for a moment, while her guard was down, her eyes had melted back into their natural green. Derek preferred the green. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Derek shrugged and chanced a glance at the mess on his chest. “I thought I was helping you out.”

Elizabeth snorted and slapped him on the shoulder. “I can help myself.”

“Forgive me. Next time I’ll be sure to let you become vampire chow.” Derek said.

Elizabeth just laughed softly. “You scared the shit out of me, Derek.”

“Just you?” Derek asked, his eyes flitting to the boy sleeping behind Elizabeth’s back.

Elizabeth turned to glance at Stiles before refocusing on Derek with a smile on her face. “You scared everyone. We’re just the ones who were too stubborn to leave.”

“Apparently. How come the entire pack isn't here to mourn my sacrifice?” Derek said sarcastically. Having Elizabeth and Stiles in the room with him when he came back to the Land of the Living was more than enough for him.

“Lydia went home to hit the books and figure out what the hell a vamp clan was doing in Beacon Hills.” Elizabeth explained, keeping her voice soft so as to not wake Stiles. “Scott wouldn't let Kira come and I’m pretty sure he left to beg for her forgiveness after the seventh scathing voicemail she left him. Jackson was in rough shape so I sent him home with Erica and Boyd.”

“Where’s Isaac?” Derek asked.

“Making a coffee run.”

Derek snorted at that. “Did I interrupt nap time?”

“You did.” Elizabeth said. “You've been out for ten hours, and I haven’t slept for more than fifteen minutes.”

Derek’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He didn’t think he’d been out that long.

“How long ago did he leave?” Derek asked, unsure how he felt about Isaac being alone after a night like tonight.

“Three minutes ago, chill.” Elizabeth said soothingly. “I let him have the Camaro, so I’m sure he’s going to take a joyride before he comes back, so relax.”

Derek did, lying back on the cold metal of the table. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Stiles again. “Why didn't he leave?”

Elizabeth shrugged. “I couldn't make him. Scott even tried Alpha-voicing him, but he just laughed in his face.”

“Huh.” Derek said, which in no way conveyed the way his heart was skipping in his chest.

Elizabeth just hummed thoughtfully, patting his hand gently with a knowing smirk on her face. “Go back to sleep, Derek. Deaton recommended you stay here to get a full 24 hours of rest.”

Derek didn't want to, but his eye lids were drooping again and Derek succumbed to sleep once again, and he slipped into the kaleidoscope of blues once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! I've gotten some excellent feedback on the work so far, and I tried incorporating some of the feedback I've gotten into this chapter. I think Elizabeth is starting to catch on to Stiles and Derek, so I'm excited to write that in.
> 
> Thank you again for keeping up with this story and enjoying it!! Comments and critique is welcomed, and mistakes are my own!


	14. Busted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY DON'T PANIC I HAVE IT ALL UNDER CONTROL

A few weeks after Halloween Scott and Elizabeth were stretching before gym together with enough space between them and their classmates that they could casually discuss the supernatural in the light of day. Elizabeth had more on her mind, however, than just the sudden influx of mythical creatures raiding Beacon Hills. 

“You know Stiles pretty well, right?” She asked, and the incredulous look Scott gave her told her the question was as dumb as she thought it was. “You know what I mean. You know him the best, right? He tells you everything?”

“He tells me things I never wanted to know.” Scott said in a miserable voice as he pulled his arms behind his head. “One time, he told me about how his dad walked in on him using his—.”

“ _ALRIGHT_ , Scott! Jeez! Just because you've been traumatized doesn't mean you have to share the wealth!” Elizabeth said quickly. She didn't even know why she was bringing this up to Scott, but it pertained to her best friend, which immediately made it her business.

“Why do you ask?” Scott asked as he dropped into a lunge.

“I've just been…noticing things…” Elizabeth said cryptically. By ‘things’, of course, she meant that today in art she’d gotten a good look at the portrait Stiles was working on for a project. The portrait was vague enough that if you didn't know what you were looking at, the subject would be unrecognizable, but Elizabeth could differentiate between blue eyes and the hauntingly bright blue eyes that stared out at her from Stiles’s portrait. She refrained from commenting, not wanting to jump to any conclusions.

“What kinds of things?” Scott asked, sounding worried.

“Is Stiles… Has Stiles ever… How do I put this…?” She tripped over her words a few more times before buckling down. “Does Stiles like dudes?”

Scott looked like she’d struck him with a frying pan. “I mean, he told me not to say anything…”

Scott McCall: True Alpha and World’s Worst Secret Keeper.

Elizabeth nodded pensively. “Has he ever brought up anyone…specific?”

Scott gave her a strange look as he shifted legs and dropped into another lunge. “Do you have someone in mind?”

“No, no. Not really.” She said airily, not letting on to the fact that she thought Stiles might be harboring feelings for her broody best friend.

“What brought this about? Did he show you his paper on the history of the male circumcision?” Scott asked.

Elizabeth pulled a face on him and he explained to her the paper that Stiles had written in sophomore year. Apparently it left Coach Finstock so traumatized that he refrained from giving the assignment to any of his other classes, making Stiles something of a hero.

“No, must have slipped his mind during all the talks we've had about the history of circumcision…” She said slowly.

Finstock blew his whistle and called the student into a huddle next to the volleyball net he’d set up in the middle of the gym. His eyes flicked to every student as he explained the rules and told them that if any of them got hurt he expected them to walk it off because he wasn't writing any more nurse passes after her found out the Greenberg was using them to get out of class and raid the cafeteria.

His eyes rested an abnormally long time on Elizabeth and for a moment she felt like he could see straight through her disguise, but a moment later he was blowing the whistle and telling the kids to get the game started before disappearing into his office.

Elizabeth forgot about it for a while.

She was invited into Finstock’s office in the middle of a volleyball scrimmage with no warning, just a sudden whistle blow and a summoning wave of his hand. Elizabeth exchanged a worried glance with Scott before trotting off after him into the small office that Finstock called his own. She knew Scott would be listening intently, and she watched him through the window of the coach’s office that looked out into the gym.

“So, Elizabeth.” He began, but the way he said her name immediately put her on edge, she almost thought he’d continue on to say, ‘If that is your real name.’ if given the chance.

“Yes, sir?”

Coach moved about to his side of the desk, picking up a glossy but creased picture from his desk and studying it for a moment before smiling. “I’ve got your number, kid.” He said, passing her the picture that she realized, with gut-wrenching horror, was her senior year soccer photo. Her hair was tied and pulled to the side, the sun shining on the face that was unmistakably hers, and ‘BEACON HILLS VARSITY SOCCER’ stamped across her chest. If that wasn't damning enough, the scrawl at the bottom reading ‘Elizabeth Till – Forward ‘06’ was evidence enough that she was exactly the girl Finstock thought she was all along. On instinct she turned to look out the window, and saw Scott staring at her with his jaw hanging dangerously close to the polished gym floor, frozen on the spot.

Time to panic.

“Coach, please, I can explain this, really.” She began, but stopped when Finstock raised his hand.

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m calling the Board of Education after class, and they’re gonna take things from there. I have half the mind to call the police right now and have them drag you out of here!” Finstock pointed a finger at her, his eyes merciless, “You think I take this lightly? I don’t know who you are, lady. I don’t know why you look like this girl, but I’m not gonna let you, whoever ‘you’ are, put my kids in danger, you hear me?”

Elizabeth looked imploringly at Finstock, “Please, sir, I am Elizabeth Till, I’m the same girl from all those years ago, I swear to you, I swear!” She began pulling at straws, “Please, I was best friends with the Hales—I,” she was cut off by the coach’s harsh laughter.

“Oh, right! The Hales! Those are some real upstanding citizens, right there!” He laughed humorlessly once again, deflating Elizabeth’s hope by the second.

“Sir, please, I can’t tell you how it’s possible, but it is. Please, sir!” Her eyes began to well with tears. She didn't want for her life here to crumble again, for the police to find out who she was and dig up her false past, or for them to discover how the Sheriff had snuck her into the school system twice. She couldn't leave her friends, not when she’d just started feeling comfortable. She was slipping out of control, her tears falling from her eyes. The magic she’d worked on her appearance was wavering, and her hair was shifting back and forth between black and auburn, her eyes flashing green and brown in the same manner. 

Finstock’s mouth was hanging open in shock as he took in her altering appearance. “What the f—.”

The door blew open on its hinges, and Scott was barging into the room, slamming the door behind him. He walked to the window and pulled the blinds. When he turned, his face had shifted into his wolf, dark red eyes locking with Finstock, who had turned so white that Elizabeth was beginning to wonder if there was an ounce of blood left in him.

“Holy hell, McCall!” He whispered, disbelieving. He collapsed into his desk chair and scrambled around him, coming up with a bat that he held in front of himself defensively. “I don’t know what you are, McCall, but you need to go!”

“No, Coach, you need to listen.” Scott said, his voice carrying a lot more authority than Elizabeth was used to. Finstock looked positively shaken, looking between this beast-boy and this nameless student who, for all he knew, was a serial killer. He gripped his bat tighter as he shook his head.

“Coach Finstock, please. We can explain.” Elizabeth said, her voice soft, hands raised in surrender. “Give us the rest of the period, and we’ll tell you everything.” Her appearance was back to normal, her waterfalls of auburn hair falling around her face and her wide green eyes looking imploringly at the man in front of her. Even her long-lost freckles were beginning to reappear across her face.

Finstock allowed himself a few moments of indecision before he lowered his bat a fraction of an inch and nodded his consent. Scott’s face slipped back into its normal formation, and he took the seat beside Elizabeth as they both sighed deeply and decided where to begin.

***

“So, no shit, huh? Werewolves, witches, shape-shifters, banshees…they’re all real?” Coach finally said, after listening surprisingly well to the stories that Scott and Elizabeth told him. He was nursing a flask that he’d pulled from his desk after Scott told him that half his lacrosse team was part-wolf, but other than that he’d taken it incredibly well for a man who was wielding a bat not even twenty minutes earlier.

“Yeah, kinda explains all those freak things we used to do back in the day, huh?” Elizabeth said. She was actually a little surprised that she was able to pull wool over the eyes of one of the most stubborn men she’d ever met.

“I gotta ask, are your werewolf chemicals gonna mess with the steroid tests?” Finstock asked. “Because I’m gonna tell you right now, every school district in Northern California is calling for every boy on this team to pee in a cup, and I’m not ready to lose half my squad because they've got something supernatural in the tank.”

Scott shared a quick ‘What the hell?’ glance with Elizabeth before turning back to Finstock. “No, sir… I don’t think that’s ever been a problem.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing supernatural about Greenberg?”

“No, sir. He’s just…weird.”

“Alright, McCall. Till. Don’t expect me to take it easy on you two now that I know you could kill me.” Finstock said, standing up and leading them out of his office.

“And don’t expect us to bring a doctor’s note when we skip class to go fight monsters.” Elizabeth replied.

Once they were a safe distance away from the gym and headed toward their next class, Elizabeth bumped Scott’s shoulder with her own. “You didn't have to do that for me, Scotty.”

“I know, but I couldn’t let him take you down like that, not when you’re doing so much for the pack. You’re not just healing Stiles, Liz; you’re healing all of us.” His smile was honest and blinding, and Elizabeth thought of the book she was reading for English, about the man with a rare smile that was so earnest that it made you believe in yourself. Scott had one of those smiles, he really did. “’Sides,” he mused, “it’s kinda cool having a teacher know about us, even if it is Finstock. It’s kinda like having an ally here.”

And it was like having an ally. In the following week, Finstock treated them all basically the same, though now he turned a blind eye when Scott jumped a bit too high, or Elizabeth sunk a shot from a bit too far. He also feigned blissful ignorance when Isaac would suddenly dart out of Economics without so much as a bathroom excuse, or when Stiles would let out a breathless, “Oh my god!” as an epiphany struck him and he slipped from the class to call Derek and let him in on his latest brain blast. The pack even suspected that it was Coach who convinced Kira’s chemistry teacher not to give her a detention for skipping two days of class while the gang was hunting down a nest of faeries just outside of the Beacon Hills territory.

***

Coincidentally, it was also Finstock who assembled them all in his office one day looking distressed. It was first thing in the morning on a Monday, so Coach didn't even have an excuse to be frazzled yet, but here he was, pacing the floor behind his desk like a man on the edge.

“Now, look, this might be nothing, but it seems like the kind of thing that would be right up you guys’s alley.” He began, fleetingly glancing at each of them before returning to his pacing.

“Look, Coach, not that I’m not interested, but I have two quizzes that I didn't study for and this is really cutting into my cram time…” Isaac said while looking anxious to get out of the room.

“Can it Lahey, can’t you see I’m unstable!” Coach snapped. “I don’t know what they hell they are. I’m on my way in today, and I see a group of ‘em in the woods. I thought I’d seen something like them somewhere, in one of those Potter movies, there…”

“Acromantulas?” Stiles whispered nervously, and Elizabeth rolled her eyes and gently took his wrist, subtly seeping the anxiousness from his skin. If anyone noticed, they didn't comment.

“Acro—what? No.” Coach said, “Great, big, ugly looking things. Two legs, two arms, green, slimy skin.”

It was Jackson’s turn to look worried when he supplied the option of kanimas.

“No, no. They looked like living rocks; I don’t know what to call them. They weren't giants, Hell, they hardly looked human.

Scott looked deep in thought, “Trolls?”

Coach’s head snapped toward him and his hand cracked off the desk before pointing to Scott and letting out a relieved “A-HA!”

“Trolls?” Stiles repeated, looking skeptical. “In Beacon Hills? They usually stick to mountains and caves, Coach.”

“Well maybe they’re on their way to Disneyland and taking a pit stop, the Hell if I know, Stilinski. I just figured it would be something your bunch would want to know about.”  
“Well, we can’t do anything about it now, Sir, we’ve got class.” Elizabeth said, and Isaac looked relieved that at least someone else in the room was trying to get on with the day.

“Look,” Finstock said, dropping his voice conspiratorially, “if I say I sent you kids out on a little errand for Ol’ Finstock, I’m sure no one would harass you about it.”

The group looked around in shock.

“You’re telling us to skip school?” Boyd clarified.

“I’m not telling you to skip school, per se. I’m telling you to…prioritize.” He said, choosing his words carefully. “’Sides, I don’t want to see those ugly suckers again on my ride home.”

Scott turned to the group and spoke to them at large. “What do you say guys, you in?”

“If it gets me out of these quizzes, I’ll fight them all myself.” Isaac said, and the group followed suit.

“Great, now get the hell out of here. Use the back door of the boys’ locker room, that’ll lead you right to student parking.” Finstock said, ushering them out of his office quickly and snapping the door shut behind them.

“Someone call Derek!” Scott ordered as they all cut through the boys’ locker room. The stench may have been tolerable for the boys who spent many a sweaty afternoon in there, but the girls were retching at the scent of body spray, sweat, and dirty laundry. Erica in particular was moaning about not being able to make it, and feigning fainting into Boyd’s arms so he’d carry her. Naturally, he complied, and Erica’s sensitive nose remained buried in Boyd’s t-shirt until they hit the open air.

“I’m on it!” Stiles said, yanking his phone from his pocket.

Elizabeth, Erica, Stiles and Boyd crammed into Stiles’s Jeep as the phone rang out from where it was wedged between Stiles’s cheek and his shoulder. By the time he got the car started, Derek’s gruff mumble came through over the speaker.

“Why hello Sourwolf, you sound particularly grumpy this morning.” Stiles said with a twinkle in his eyes. Erica mimed gagging, and Boyd laughed along.

“No, no. We’re not dying. I’m just gonna need your help on a little 288 here.” Stiles said, mimicking the codes his dad always grumbled into his radio.

Elizabeth’s eyebrows drew together, “288…Stiles, you know that’s…”

Apparently Derek knew what it was, too.

Apparently Stiles didn't.

“Wha—No! God, no that’s not what I…Oh sweet Jesus no, Derek I didn't…Stop laughing at me, this is serious!” But the laughter continued, and it only seemed to fuel Stiles’s full body blush.

“What the hell’s a 288?” Boyd asked.

Elizabeth spun in her seat to look at him, because the way Stiles was looking, it seemed like he was more likely to go catatonic than to answer Boyd’s question. “Well, it definitely doesn’t mean troll infestation, I can tell you that much.”

When Erica and Boyd gave her twin expectant looks, she huffed and looked sorrowfully at Stiles before explaining, “A 288 is when the suspect is engaging in… _lewd_ acts with a minor.”

Erica and Boyd turned to look at each other with shit-eating grins on their faces before dissolving into laughter of their own. Elizabeth just rolled her eyes and took the phone from Stiles, trying to keep Derek from hearing Erica’s joyful cries of “Stiles just asked Derek to help with screwing a minor! I can’t take it, I can’t take it, God, kill me now!”

Stiles looked ready to do just that.

“Derek, I need you to take this seriously, where are you?” Elizabeth said.

Derek’s laughter died out. “The loft, where else?”

“We’ve got trolls in town, we’re taking to the woods on the main road to the school, we’re gonna try to run them out of here, I think.” Elizabeth said, assuming, of course, that the trolls were willing to go peacefully. 

“Trolls? Don’t they stick to—“

“Mountains, yeah. Stiles said the same thing. Maybe they’re lost, I don’t know. But it’s our problem until they’re across the Beacon Hills town line, so get your ass to the woods ASAP.” She said before handing Stiles back his phone, which he dumped unceremoniously into the center console.

“So Stiles…” Erica began mischievously, leaning into the space between the driver’s and the passenger’s seats. “Was that a Freudian slip, or are you after Derek for more…dubious reasons? You got a minor in mind, or were you offering yourself up for the cause?” She asked, finishing by tickling the back of his neck before dropping back into her seat with a graceless plop to avoid the wild limb that Stiles swung out at her.

“We never mention this ever again, do you hear me?” Stiles said, gripping tight to the steering wheel as he reversed so quickly that he didn't see Jackson right behind him, and nearly crushed the front end of the Porsche. Jackson was screaming a whole litany of curse words at Stiles to which Stiles responded to with a middle finger aimed in Jackson’s general direction.

***

The Camaro was already parked and waiting just outside of a clearing that led into the heart of the woods. The others found inconspicuous places to park all along the road so as to not draw suspicion and all met at Derek’s car. Stiles was still looking pathetically red in the face as they devised a strategy.

“I say we stick together, strength in numbers and all that.” Lydia suggested, and the group agreed.

“You two should get in the Jeep; follow the trail while we take the woods. That way if you run into trolls, you’re not going to be left out in the open.” Derek suggested, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“We’re not defenseless. Lydia’s been training with Argent and I'm a freaking wizard, need I remind you.”

“You’re not where you need to be yet, Stiles. You need more control.” Elizabeth said.

Stiles looked as if he’d never felt so betrayed.

“I’m alright with that plan. That way if one of you gets hurt, we can get you out of there faster than running.” Lydia said.

“Alright then, let’s run it.” Scott said, clapping his hands before shifting and darting into the trees. The others followed suit, leaving Lydia and Stiles to jog back to the Jeep and follow behind.

As they jerked violently across the uneven grounds of the forest, Lydia and Stiles did their best to keep an eye on everyone at once. Kira was far out in front, sprinting and darting through the trees with grace. Scott and Jackson followed close behind her on either side. Behind them Derek, Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were splitting off in different directions but staying, for the most part, within the same area. Every once in a while they would lose Boyd or Isaac for a moment, only to have them reappear after bursting through the greenery around them.

It wasn't until Stiles could feel thunderous vibrations in the forest floor that he eased up on the gas. Listening hard he could make out the footsteps of something moving in quickly from…behind them?

Lydia and Stiles shared a terrified glance before jerking around in their seats just in time to watch a large, pallid green hand take hold of the bumper and flip the entire Jeep.  
Stiles knew Jeeps were made to handle a little rolling but that didn't mean he was any less scared as the metal creaked ominously around them as they tumbled through the woods. Lydia was cussing up an unholy storm and Stiles would berate her if he wasn't doing the exact same thing. 

They finally came to a rest almost three hundred feet from where they’d been thrown. Stiles blinked quickly before reaching an arm across to Lydia, nudging her shoulder and making sure she was alright.

“I’m fine, Stiles, I’m fine. I might puke, but I’m fine.” Lydia said, sounding just as sick as she felt. “We got to get out of here.”

“We’ve got to get out of here, yeah.” Stiles echoed. He looked out his windshield, trying to regain his bearings. All the rolling and jostling had left him entirely clueless as to which way the Jeep was resting. He was still trying to figure it out when he heard a sudden bang on Lydia’s side of the car. With a horrible creak the car was suddenly placed back on four wheels, and Jackson stood there huffing and puffing and urging Lydia to get out of the car.

Stiles stumbled to the dirt on his side while Lydia slid neatly from her seat. He surveyed the forest and felt the rumbling steps still shaking the ground he stood on. “Where is it?”  
“You mean, where are they?” Jackson clarified as he surveyed Lydia for any damage. Aside from a busted lip, there appeared to be none. “Your little friend wasn’t alone.”  
“How many of them?” Lydia asked.

“Five or six, but we’d better get going. Scott told me to get you guys out of here.” Jackson said, taking Lydia’s arm and beginning to jog back toward the main road.  
Lydia was having none of that as she dug in her heels. “Excuse me?”

“He said it’s too dangerous, Lyd, and he’s right! They've got to be at least twenty feet tall, baby. You’re gonna get hurt.” Jackson pleaded with her.

Lydia rolled her eyes and jerked her arm from his grasp, standing defiantly before him. “I don’t care what McCall thinks will hurt me, and I don’t care what you think will hurt me. I’m not going to sit at home while my boyfriend fights. Steel metal death trap or no, I’m going in there.” She said in a tone that left no room for argument, but that didn't mean Jackson wasn't going to try.

“But, Lyd—.”  
“Ah, ah, ah! No, no buts. I’m going. Would you like to join me?” Lydia asked, already turning on the spot and jogging through the forest in her five inch heels.

Jackson and Stiles looked at each other, both completely baffled. Ultimately they decided to follow suit and they caught up to the banshee who was moving surprisingly fast given her less than practical footwear. Stiles was pretty sure that wasn't humanly possible, but he was also pretty sure that Lydia had never been entirely human. 

They burst into a clearing where they found the fight going down. They pack had already managed to send one troll packing, apparently, because Stiles could only account for four of them. They were great, nasty looking things with skin like slimy rocks and snaggleteeth and tiny, beady little eyes that looked ridiculous on their fat faces. Stiles was actually surprised at how closely they resembled the troll from the bathroom in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and was just beginning to wonder if J.K. Rowling hadn't actually had a run in with a troll herself when he was being pulled to the ground with a frantic cry of, “Duck!”

A troll had capitalized on Stiles scatterbrain and hummed a small boulder at him. Luckily Kira had bounded across the clearing and thrown herself on Stiles in time to knock them both out of the way.

“I thought Scott told you guys to run?” Kira asked breathlessly as she aided Stiles to his feet. Behind her Scott charged the rock throwing troll and knocked it on its ass in an impressive show of strength. The ground shook as the creature howled horribly in pain.

“Scott tells me to do a lot of things. Do I listen? No.” Stiles said with a shrug.

Kira gave him a disapproving glance before darting back into the action. Stiles stayed rooted to the spot, his eyes scanning the dueling bodies, trying to find any way he could be useful. 

He watched as Kira joined Scott in his effort to immobilize the troll that was still lying on the ground.

Further back Erica and Elizabeth were jerking a troll back and forth between the two of them: A punch from Erica sent it teetering toward Elizabeth, who in turn sent it stumbling back Erica’s way with a flick of the wrist. Stiles thought it looked more like a game of Monkey in the Middle than a fight, but to each their own. 

Isaac, Lydia, and Jackson had taken on their own troll and despite Lydia’s human status she’d been able to prove herself useful. From where, he didn't know, but she’d managed to pull a pistol and was shooting at the troll from behind it’s back, distracting it for a moment so that Isaac and Jackson could rough it up while it wasn't looking. Every time it would lurch for her, Lydia would dart quickly beneath its legs, emerging on the other side and continuing her assault on its back. 

Boyd and Derek were teaming up on their troll as well, but somehow they’d been landed with the biggest one of the bunch, and it wasn't looking too great for them.

Boyd was circling the creature slowly, looking for any weak spots on his humongous body. It didn't look like he was finding anything, but he charged forward anyway and was in turn whacked hard in the chest by the troll’s fat fist and sent flailing through the air and rolling into the shrubbery. Derek watched in horror as the thing advanced on him alone. Too stubborn to call for help, he just stumbled backward until tripping on a tree root and tumbling to the ground.

Stiles looked about the clearing again, searching for anyone would could be helpful to Derek but everyone was busy. That left him and his developing magic as Derek’s last hope, which Stiles supposed was better than nothing. 

As the troll continued to advance on Derek, Stiles tried to focus on his drive. He was trying so hard to keep his concentration up, but watching Derek scramble across the dirt was unnerving. Derek’s life was in danger and Stiles was choking up. Of course he was.

Elizabeth seemed to suddenly noticed Derek’s current predicament and attempted to intervene, but during her lapse in focus the troll had spun on her and whacked her with the heavy wooden club it held in its hand, sending her sprawling to the ground with a grunt. The troll then turned on Erica and gripped her by the legs, tossing her off into the forest just as the larger one had done with Boyd.

Stiles watched in horror as Derek’s troll caught up to him and wrapped two filthy hands around his body, picking him up before slamming his body back into the dirt. He repeated this over and over, and Stiles was seriously going out of his mind.

“Stiles!” Scott cried from where he was clinging to his troll’s shoulders as it tried tirelessly to buck him off. “Stiles, come on, you can do it!”

Stiles nodded and then jogged into the fight, getting closer than he was before and taking in a deep, steadying breath before allowing himself to be filled with his carnal sense of purpose. He finally felt it thrumming through his veins and was relieved when he felt his eyes illuminate with their dazzling amber glow. At first he attempted to throw the troll itself, but that thing wasn't budging, so Stiles improvised.

He began with rocks, which he fired at the back of the troll’s thick skull until he had his undivided attention. The troll dropped Derek like a rag doll and turned toward Stiles, roaring horribly as it lurched toward him.

Stiles backtracked a few steps before extending his hand toward one of the many trees surrounding the clearing. With a spike in energy, he uprooted the entire thing and swung it at the troll, rocking him back a few wide and stumbling steps. He kept swinging; knocking it further and further into the woods until the thing finally howled in pathetic surrender and turned tail.

Stiles exhaled deeply and dropped to his knees, his entire body positively thrumming. The tree fell to the ground with a loud crack and Stiles couldn't be bothered to move it off into the forest. He watched Derek get up and shake himself off while looking at him in awe. Stiles smiled weakly before shrugging.

“Atta boy Stiles!” Isaac cried from the distance as he scampered around the feet of his troll, dodging its flailing limbs.

Stiles felt pride welling in his chest. He was about to brag about how Derek was becoming a damsel in distress when he felt the ground begin to rumble with heavy footsteps once again. Stiles looked up to see the troll with the club ambling ominously toward him. Behind it he saw Elizabeth stirring weakly, but Erica was nowhere to be found. 

He looked up helplessly as the troll drew ever closer, raising the club above its head before swinging it down on Stiles like a golf club, sending a splintered piece of wood through Stiles’s chest. He held on to the club as it lifted him from the ground and then flung him across the clearing, landing in a blissfully soft patch of grass. His body fell horribly, limbs twisted and aching as he lay there. He couldn't move, he could hardly breathe, and all he could register was the sudden gaping gash that marred his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I HAVE IT ALL UNDER CONTROL I SWEAR
> 
> THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND THOUGHTS I'M SO SORRY I HAVE THIS UNDER CONTROL


	15. The Phoenix

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I SHOULD WARN YOU THAT PEOPLE DIE HERE. INNOCENT PEOPLE. CUTE, INNOCENT PEOPLE
> 
> I'M SORRY

Lydia was screaming. She was screaming so fucking loud and if Stiles could move his mouth he’d tell her to stop because he got it. Death was here. Death was winding its arms tight around him and dragging him away and the world was fading to black, roll the names, play that happy song.

Isaac was hovering directly over him, his face floating in and out of focus, just flashes of scared golden yellow eyes and curly hair and a sharp jaw. He was gripping Stiles’s shoulders and yelling something at him, but he could here fuck all else over Lydia’s scream, which kept coming. It was never ending, like the darkness he was slipping into.

A miserable roar broke through the shrill cry, and Stiles knew it must’ve been Scott with his stupidly loud roar that could probably wake the dead, which coincidentally, Stiles was about to become. He gave a dry laugh at that, which clearly perplexed Isaac because his eyebrows drew together and Stiles saw his mouth form the words, “He’s laughing, why the fuck’s he laughing?”

And then Scott was there, Scott with his dumb puppy eyes that were brimming with tears and his stupid voice that was pleading for Stiles to stay awake, to stay with him, to keep fighting because he couldn't lose his best friend.

Stiles gave a fleeting thought to the people he hoped to see on the other side. Allison’d be there, and she’d probably read him the riot act for leaving himself defenseless in a fight. He missed Allison so much, with her laugh like wind chimes and her dimples and her curly, curly hair. He thought of his mother, who would call him by his real name and hug him and tell him what a brave boy he’d been. Stiles found himself smiling as Scott continued to scream in his face, but the words were hardly processing as anything more than whispers from afar.

And then Erica was there, her beautiful hair matted with blood that he hoped belonged to those stupid trolls and not to anyone in the pack, and she had his head pulled into her lap, gently pushing his hair off of his sweaty forehead. “ _Stiles!_ ” She was shrieking, but again, it was barely registering. He could hardly feel her feather light touches on his skin, and the world was dimming at the edges. 

His eyes darted from face to face, wishing there were more people here. He needed his pack to see him off; he needed to see everyone one last time. 

He wanted to hear Boyd’s soothing voice, even if it was distant and garbled. He wanted to see Kira, with her quirky fashion and her constant optimism. He wanted to see Elizabeth with vengeance in her eyes, swearing that she’d get every last one of those goddamn trolls if it was the last thing she ever did. He needed to see Lydia’s beautiful face, the one he’d obsessed over for years, run his hand over her porcelain skin at least once, just to know what it felt like. He needed to see Derek; he needed to know if his stupid, stoic expression would break if he was faced with Stiles’s dying body laid out in front of him. Hell, he’d even like one last look at Jackson’s stupid mug before he never saw it again, if only to garble out with his last dying breath that he was the biggest douche he’d ever known.

Lydia was still screeching, but now it felt like a dull ringing in his ears. If Death could just hurry up, then maybe he could finally get some peace and quiet, if that wasn't too much to ask for. 

A rumbling sound suddenly over powered the ringing, and Stiles opened his eyes weakly to look at Scott, but his lips were clamped shut, his head hung with sobs rocking his body. The rumble kept coming, and Stiles thought it was maybe an earthquake, or a troll charging the small vigil because apparently these things couldn't recognize a tender moment when they saw one. 

He watched as Isaac and Erica ducked down as some unidentified troll appendage soared just over their heads, thudding to a halt a few meters away from Stiles’ feet. The rumbling continued, and Stiles felt more than saw more scattered troll pieces falling around them. Stiles smiled wryly, imagining Elizabeth going absolutely postal, the ground quaking beneath her feet as she avenged his soon to be death.

But it wasn't Elizabeth, because now Elizabeth was at his side, and although she looking positively murderous and was still emitting a soft white light, she wasn't the one dismembering trolls left and right. She gripped tightly to the hand that Scott wasn't holding and began siphoning off more of his pain, and his chest was feeling blissfully light as he allowed his head to loll back and forth in Erica’s lap. He felt so warm here, around his friends.

Kira flew in behind Scott, her arms wrapping about his torso and her chin resting on his shoulder. Kira was so kind, Stiles thought fondly, watching Scott turn his head the slightest bit to acknowledge her. She knew what this must be doing to Scott, and how Scott needed someone to hold him just as much as Stiles did. She was intuitive like that. She was also trying to say something to Stiles, and she was saying it with a smile on her face, so Stiles assumed it was good news, or a compliment, or maybe she was cracking a joke at his death bed. Any of those options were reason enough for Stiles to smile back.

The deep rumble finally stopped, and it seemed as though Lydia had finally screamed herself hoarse, because a deafening silence crashed in on Stiles from all angles. He looked about him. Everyone was crying, even Isaac with his stupid scarf. Erica’s tears were splashing on his face and they felt like rain, and maybe it was raining out, he didn't know.  
And finally, finally, good Jesus Christ finally, the rest of the pack was there. Just as the world was beginning to spin into darkness and Scott was starting to frantically pull on Stiles’s arm and Elizabeth was starting to sob freely across his chest, they showed up. 

Lydia was clinging to Jackson, her face covered in tears and snot and Stiles wished she would clean up a bit, but it didn’t really matter, because she was there and that’s what counted. She looked weak, but Jackson kept a strong arm about her waist as he starred down at Stiles with a look of mixed horror and sadness. Maybe Stiles had to take back what he said earlier. Maybe he wasn’t the biggest douche he’d ever met. Boyd crouched by his head and held him gently by his shoulder, his other arm wrapping about Erica. Stiles watched Boyd’s mouth move and although he had no idea what he was saying, the earnest look on his face comforted him, so Stiles nodded weakly before looking at Derek.

Holy shit, _Derek_  
.  
His eyes were a brighter blue than he’d ever seen them. He was covered, soaked, and drenched in blood, and suddenly Stiles knew exactly who’d been tossing around troll bits like trash. His eyes watered up at the sight. 

Stupid Sourwolf with his dumb anger management problems, always brooding and lurking and finding reasons to be mad at the world. Dumb old Derek who never listened to Stiles and thought he was weak and whom Stiles had saved on countless occasions and had never received proper thanks for. Idiotic Derek Hale with his permanent scruff and invincible eyebrows and ever present leather jacket that Stiles assumed he had a billion of because every time one got ruined, another appeared. 

Derek dropped down beside Scott and let out the noise that was rumbling the earth from moments before. Scott looked at him before joining in, and soon all the wolves were howling, and Elizabeth, Lydia, and Kira were mock-howling, and Stiles was falling and falling, and soon it was black. Everything was black.

***

Death sure was warm.

Kinda…toasty warm. Like he’d been curled in his electric blanket for a bit too long…

And Death was noisy, it sounded panicked and amazed…and why the hell was it so hot?

Good God, was he in Hell?

His eyes shot open and he was met with the horrific sight of his entire body engulfed in flames. His immediate reaction was stop drop and roll, but something held him rooted to the spot, something inside his mind kept him from flailing about on the ground. Perhaps it was the fact that he realized with extreme confusion that although his entire body was alight, he wasn't in pain. He wasn't burning, he was just on fire. Odd…

He felt around his chest, and noticed with some small satisfaction that the gaping hole had sealed, and he was no longer looking at his own intestines. He’d take his blessings where he could get them, he supposed, and since being on fire seemed a hell of a lot better than having a hole in his body, Stiles counted this as a blessing.

As his senses refocused, he heard his friends. Specifically, he heard Isaac’s panicked and repeated, “What the fuck?” as well as Lydia’s screams for water and Jackson’s satisfying and hopefully well documented feminine shriek. 

More interesting was Elizabeth’s mantra of, “Oh my God, no way.” spoken as if this was the highlight of her incredibly long life.

And then the fire was out, suddenly and without much drama, it just fizzled out and left Stiles on the ground looking dazed and confused, watching as eight faces slowly closed in around him, each looking wary as they moved closer.

“Stiles?” Scott asked weakly, “You alright buddy?”

Stiles nodded and sat up quickly, but the immediate head rush he got had him curling in on himself with his hands wound in his hair.

“You mind telling me what the hell that was?” Derek asked.

Stiles gave a non-committal grunt and shrugged.

“I’ll tell you what it was, it was the fucking _Phoenix_! I can’t believe I didn't sense it!” Elizabeth cried, collapsing on top of him and strangling him in a hug.

“A fuckin’… the Hell’s a Phoenix, Liz?” Stiles asked, looking exasperated, which is exactly how he felt. How had he gone from a wizard to a flaming bird?

“You’re a regenerative wizard, Stiles! When you die, you heal yourself, and you come back good as new. It’s rare, like, really rare! We’re talkin’ White Witch rare. My god, you have no idea how powerful you are, do you?”

“Nope, once again, you’re the first to tell me.” Stiles said gruffly, pulling her from around his aching body. He looked around at his friends who all looked over the moon that Stiles had managed to survive, despite him having to catch fire to do so. Even Jackson had the decency to look happy, now that he’d finally calmed down from his shrieking. He looked past them for a moment to the troll parts that were still lying littered across the ground, and then his eyes flashed back to Derek, who shrugged sheepishly after following Stiles’s gaze.

Bashful was a good look on Derek, Stiles noted. Much like every other emotion the guy was capable of producing.

“Is it over, are they all gone?” Stiles asked.

“You kidding? After the rest of them got a good look at Derek going berserk, they decided to save face and ran north.” Boyd said, smiling down on Stiles. 

If the rest of the pack heard his skipping heart, they either ignored it, or chocked it up as excitement for being alive.

“Feel good to have someone be afraid of you again?” Stiles asked as he was hoisted to his feet by the joint effort of Erica and Boyd.

Derek snorted, but he was smiling. Stiles figured that he could wait to see Allison and his mother again if it meant seeing the wonder that was Derek Hale’s smile a few more times.

***

On the edge of the Beacon Hill’s town line a dark figure read and reread the sign welcoming new comers into the town. A smile stretched across his thin lips as he pulled his dark trench coat tighter about his slim frame. He continued along the road, moving like a dark shadow in the light of day. He whistled a shrill, slow tune as he followed the thrumming energy radiating from within the heart of the small town.

His own energy swirled within his chest in response.

The cane he carried tapped out a steady pattern against the asphalt, the silver handle clenched tight in his gloved hand. He was in no rush: The Phoenix and The White Witch were rooted here for now, and he intended to capitalize on the fact that for the first time in over two thousand years they were together in the same place.

Something about two birds and a single stone.

A car slowed to a stop as it drew closer to him, the small car filled with a small family coming from a small town. The man peered out from beneath the wide brim of his hat, observing the man and his wife in the front seat and their three small children in the back.

How _quaint_.

“You need a lift, buddy?” The father asked, leaning a little bit out the window and speaking louder than he would normally.

The man laughed. His elderly appearance often leads others to believe he, too, fell victim to the shortcomings of old age. His grip on his cane flexed. He remained silent.

“If you need a ride into town we’re not too far out! It’s not a burden to turn back!” The wife called from her side of vehicle. The man noted with an observant eye that she was pregnant with her fourth child.

He smiled softly and shook his head, continuing on his path without another word. He wished they hadn't stopped. He really did. He didn't like doing this, but he also didn't like it when the mundane were alerted to his presence.

He waited for the car to be further down the main road before his eyes shifted to a full, inky black and turned on his heel, flicking the cane in the general direction of the car and sending it flipping across the road, tumbling across the asphalt over and over, scrap metal and shards of glass littering the ground.

He dropped the end of his cane back to the ground and nodded solemnly before regrouping and starting toward town once again.

Veneficus had come to Beacon Hills, and he would take back what was rightfully his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but I really don't like cliff hangers so I left you with the main villain of this story and a very much alive Stiles.
> 
> I have a really firm idea of where I'm going with this, and yes, Derek and Stiles are about to have their heads pulled out of their asses whether they want them to be or not.
> 
> Let me know about any thoughts you have!! I love hearing from everyone!!


	16. Veneficus

Elizabeth kept her mouth shut for another three long, arduous months. 

She refrained from commenting when Stiles invited Derek and by extension herself to spend Thanksgiving with him and his father. She didn't make a peep while she watched Derek stare at pies for twenty five minutes as he debated which one he thought Stiles would like the best. She barely broke a smile when she watched Derek’s face go slack at the pornographic moans that Stiles made when he tasted the apple pecan pie that Derek had finally decided on. She and the Sheriff only shared one brief, easy laugh at their expense when they found the two curled up on the sofa, leaning against one another while deep in their food comas.

That was just Thanksgiving, though. That was the tip of the fucking iceberg.

On Christmas Eve the pack assembled in the loft. Peter had put Charlie Brown’s Christmas tree in the corner of the loft as a joke, but now the top of said tree was barely visible over the mountain of gifts that the pack had brought with them as they burst through the door in a whirlwind of Christmas spirit. 

Elizabeth remained blissfully silent as she watched Derek and Stiles skirt around the mistletoe that Erica had hung in the kitchen doorway. Everyone else, including John and Melissa, had been caught beneath it with the exception of Stiles and Derek. Elizabeth limited herself to internal screaming as opposed to actual screeching, but just barely. She kept her lips shut tight as gifts were exchanged: perfume and purses and shoes for Lydia; new lacrosse gear and deodorant (courtesy of Stiles) for Jackson, Elizabeth was even included and gifted with all the ratty t-shirts she could hope for and tickets to see blink-182 in the summer. She was so happy she almost missed the quiet exchange of gifts between Stiles and Derek.

Her eyes honed in on them as they sheepishly passed their gifts to one another. Derek watched Stiles open a new vinyl record from the band he’d been unable to shut up about since the middle of November. Derek received a pair of Swimmies, which for a moment he just stared at blankly before slapping Stiles upside the head to conceal his affectionate smile. 

She watched with practiced silence during dinner as Derek reached over and wiped Stiles’s eggnog-mustache off of his face and licked it from his thumb before returning to his own meal. She observed Stiles’s blush that lingered all through dinner and only giggled softly to herself when Stiles excused himself from the dinner table and sprinted to the bathroom.

Subtle as an elephant in the room, that one was.

New Years was just as bad, if not worse, because now there was a deadline to the tension. Every minute that passed brought them closer to the impending New Year’s Kiss. Elizabeth kept an impassive expression that in no way gave away the exasperation she felt when Stiles chickened out and spent the last minute of the year locked in the bathroom while Derek sat dejectedly on the sofa by himself. 

Elizabeth wanted to rip every hair from her head because even Isaac had gathered up the courage to ask if it would be alright to kiss her at midnight. She’d graciously accepted and kissed him into the next year, and the glossy look in his eyes when he pulled away had Elizabeth thinking that maybe Derek was right about his little crush on her. Erica offered to give Derek a sympathy kiss but he turned it down. He begrudgingly accepted the kiss that Elizabeth dropped on his cheek, but his mood didn't brighten until Stiles came back from his “Bathroom Break” jeering about how he’d pissed from 2014 to 2015.

Derek had found himself a real prince in Stiles.

The dam broke when Elizabeth passed Stiles as he strutted down the hall after leaving the loft. She’d just arrived home from the movies with Isaac when she caught Stiles practically skipping away from the sliding door. He’d said hello and goodbye in a voice that was positively chipper and left Elizabeth standing stock still in the hallway with a curious look on her face. 

Stiles had been showing up to the loft more and more frequently as time wore on. Sometimes Elizabeth would arrive home from a Girls Night to find Stiles and Derek watching a movie in the den, or creating some nasty concoction in the kitchen in the name of science, still other times Stiles and Derek would both silently be reading on opposite ends of the couch. 

The fact that Stiles was in the loft wasn't what surprised her, it was that Stiles was in the loft on this particular day.

Valentine’s Day.

Elizabeth calmly… _calmly_ …flung the door aside with all the strength she had in her body and flew into the loft, calling for Derek to get his ass in front of her as soon as possible.

Derek sheepishly stepped out of the kitchen with a curious look on his face. “The hell’s your problem?” He asked.

“ _You!_ ” She cried, months’ worth of suppressed aggravation and deductions finally spilling over. “ _You_ and _Stiles_ are my god damn problem!” She stomped into his space and jabbed a finger into his chest repeatedly. “ _You_ are not the only one who can pick up on crushes, Derek Hale. _You_ are the oblivious one around here, not me! And _you_ and _Stiles_ are the biggest jackasses in the entire world!”

Derek just gaped at her, so she soldiered on.

“You think I wouldn't notice?” She yelled. “I watched you pine after Paige for how long? I know your pining face when I see it, Derek! I’m just pissed I didn't notice it sooner! It all adds up!”

“What are you talking about?” He asked, but Elizabeth could call his bluff.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, you idiot!” She said, her voice nearing its maximum volume at an alarming rate. “The looks you give him, the favoritism, hell, I heard you cry his name when you came in the shower the other night. I wasn't gonna mention it, but now here I am, mentioning it!”

Derek’s ears were burning red. “I can explain that…”

“I can explain it too, Derek!” She yelled over him. “You’re head over heels for him, you big dummy!” She yelled, and Derek almost laughed because only Elizabeth could go from calling him a ‘jackass’ to a ‘big dummy’. “I’m such an idiot, all the signs were there!”

Derek arched an eyebrow. “All the signs were where?”

“ _Right in front of my freaking face_! From the very beginning! You hunt me down after years, Derek, years to help save a ‘ _friend’s_ ’ life? I can’t believe I didn't realize it then! But, oh wait, there’s more!” She cried, her finger held in front of Derek’s mouth to keep him from speaking. “Then you rail a guy who looks just freaking like him and try to pass it off as a one night stand as opposed to some fucked up transference type deal! I mean really, Derek? Could you have at least picked someone who hasn't been harboring a weak spot for you since 10th grade?” She reprimanded harshly.

Derek’s eyes refused to meet hers as he gave a weak shrug.

“Then, my god, and then there was the troll incident!” She said suddenly, as if this detail had almost escaped her notice. “You tore the limbs off of a twenty foot troll because it nearly killed Stiles! Never in my life have I seen you like that, Derek! That was the wolf! You lost control and you became the wolf all because of Stiles!”

“Just because I don’t want him dead doesn’t mean I—.”

“AND THEN!” She cut across him, again, successfully stifling him once more. “Thanksgiving! Christmas! Fucking _New Years_!” She yelled, ticking a holiday off on each finger. “The only way you could have been further up each other’s asses is if you were actually up each other’s asses!”

Derek rolled his eyes at the crudity. He’d have to have a word with Erica about her corrupting his friend’s mind.

“And now today! Valentine’s day, Derek? You've got to be joking. Unless you tell me that you fucked that boy silly on every surface of this god forsaken loft and confessed undying love to him, I’m going to slap you straight across that pretty little face of yours.”

Derek hesitated a moment too long.

His cheek has yet to recover.

“What the hell’s wrong with you? Why not?” Elizabeth cried, shaking her hand in an attempt to fight the sting.

“That’s the thing, Elizabeth…that’s what’s wrong.” Derek said quietly, dejectedly. “I’m head over heels for the guy.”

Elizabeth nodded slowly and gestured for him to go on.

“But you know what happens when I get close to people, Zab. They get hurt.” Derek finished sadly.

“The only one hurting that boy right now is you, sweetheart.” Elizabeth said in a softer tone than she’d been using.

Derek just shook his head. “I’m not good for him.”

Elizabeth eyes almost shot out of her head, “You’re not good for him? Is anyone really good for anybody?”

“You are. You’re good, Zab. He should be with someone like you. Someone unbroken.” Derek said softly.

Elizabeth sighed and took him by the wrist and dragged him to the sofa. She snuggled against his shoulder and ran her hand in soothing circles around his back. “You’re not broken, Derek.”

He scoffed at that.

“I’m not lying. You've been hurt in the past, but you’re not broken.” She continued. “The only thing you've done to hurt him is give up on him before you two had a chance to start.”

“What makes you think he feels this way, too? What makes you think he’d want someone like me, Zab?” Derek said miserably.

Elizabeth smiled and shrugged. “Call it intuition.”

Derek rolled his eyes. He waited a few moments before speaking. “Don’t tell Peter, or I’ll kill you myself.”

Elizabeth just laughed and swore herself to secrecy. 

A series of hard knocks on the metallic door tore Elizabeth and Derek’s attention away from the current topic.

“It’s your turn to get it.” Elizabeth said as she fell away from Derek and reclined against the sofa.

Derek grumbled by got up anyway. He slid the door open to reveal a thin, elderly man in a wide-brimmed black hat standing in the hallway.

“Are you Mister Hale?” The man asked in soft, chilling voice.

“No, that was my father.” Derek replied skeptically. “Can I help you?”

“Derek, get away from there!” Elizabeth cried, waving her hand in order to slide the door shut on their unexpected guest. In a flash, she was on Derek, gripping his hand tight in hers before they were both traveling across town, landing messily in Scott’s bedroom where he and Kira were on the bed in various states of undress.

“Did you even consider what I might be doing before you decided to drop by?” Scott cried as he tossed a sheet to Kira to cover herself up with.

Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, barely acknowledging Scott’s indignation. “I didn't know where else to go. We’ve got trouble, Scott, big trouble.” 

Scott and Kira were instantly on high alert and Kira was already rolling off the bed to tug her jeans back on. Derek was still struggling to catch up, and remained on the ground as he attempted to recover from his first transmutation.

“Trouble how?” Scott asked as he stumbled out of bed.

Elizabeth took a deep, steadying breath before answering. “The coven thought he was dead…” She said more to herself than anyone else. “I could be wrong…all the lore said he was killed by the last Phoenix…”

“What is she talking about…” Kira asked slowly.

Elizabeth snapped out of herself, “Veneficus, he’s back.”

Kira shrugged her shoulders. “I’m sorry, that means nothing to me.”

“Me either.” Scott said.

Elizabeth shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have heard of him. He’s an ancient, dark sorcerer. He meddles with dark magic. You've heard of the Black Plague?”

Scott and Kira both nodded.

Elizabeth held her arms at her sides before dropping them down again. “Well that was him: killed around 200 million people because he was fucking bored.”

The gravity of the situation seemed to dawn on Scott and Kira. “What the hell’s he doing back?” Scott asked.

“I don’t know. He was long gone before I came around. I've only heard legends.” Elizabeth said pensively. “They started calling him The Black Death after what he did to Europe. He was like a scary story you told your kids at night, and to witches and wizards he’s a grim reminder of what we’re capable of doing should we turn dark.”

“You said the last Phoenix killed him…” Kira said.

“That’s what legend says.” Elizabeth explained. “Right around the time that the black plague was at its peak, The Phoenix appeared. Their fight was the stuff of legends, guys. They were two sides of the same coin: Death and rebirth, destruction and revival. He fought Veneficus for two weeks before finally being able to kill him.”

“So we’re looking at some crazy amount of power if the guy was able to keep it up for two weeks…” Scott said thoughtfully.

“We’re looking at the strongest thing you kids have ever faced, Scott. He’s like Death’s right hand man. Where ever the guy goes, devastation isn't too far behind.” Elizabeth said darkly. “He’s not like Stiles or me. Our energy thrives on light and positivity. He feeds on darkness and shadows.”

Derek finally sat up and leaned on Scott’s nightstand in order to haul himself to his feet. “So what the hell brought him here?” He asked.

Elizabeth looked thoughtful for a moment. “It must have been Stiles.”

Kira, Scott, and Derek exchanged confused glances.

“It was his regeneration…maybe when Stiles woke up the Phoenix, the Phoenix woke up…” She paused as panic flooded her face. “Oh, no. Oh, no no no, this is bad. This is very bad.”

“What’s bad?” Derek asked.

Elizabeth raked her shaking hands through her hair as she began to pace the floor. “Him! This! This is bad, Derek! He’s coming for us, for me and Stiles!” She said erratically.

“Why?” Scott asked.

“Because, Scott, we didn't all used to be different entities. The White Witch, The Phoenix, Veneficus? We were once all the same body.” Elizabeth explained. She continued when her panicked stare was met with further confusion. “Alright, let me explain.

"The three pillars of magic came from the tree original energies. You had your white magic, your dark magic, and your regenerative magic. You can guess which one was which. Back in the day, our three energies were practiced within one body as opposed to three different ones. The Phoenix brought new life, The White Witch healed troubled times, and Veneficus arrived when the time had come for Death and destruction to sweep in and maintain balance.”

“So then why the three different bodies? What happened?” Derek asked.

“Getting there.” Elizabeth said shortly. “It was a harmonious balance, but you know how that goes. Someone gets power hungry. The vessel which housed our powers grew contemptuous. He began leaning heavily on dark magic to get what he wanted. He no longer cared for the good of men; he only had eyes for the good of one man. Venefincus was taking over.”

“So you bailed?” Scott asked.

“We were exorcised.” Elizabeth said.

“You can do that?” Kira asked incredulously. 

“You can, and so they did. It took an entire coven to hold him down long enough to be exorcised. They pulled our presences out and left Veneficus within that body. He was cursed to stay within that shell forever, unable to move on as his body aged.” Elizabeth explained. “The Phoenix and The White Witch move from vessel to vessel, and once one host dies it finds another. The Phoenix tends to lay dormant until the body is damaged, while The White Witch’s energy is a lot more potent. I knew it the moment I inherited it.”

“So he’s here to take his power back.” Derek said, and it wasn't a question so much as a statement.

Elizabeth nodded gravely.

“He can do that?” Kira asked.

“He’s the oldest sorcerer known to my kind, I’m sure he can do a lot of things.” Elizabeth said softly.

“Well he can’t kill you, right? Stiles can just come back and you've got eternal…whatever.” Scott said, gesturing vaguely to Elizabeth’s body.

“Stiles is safe so long as The Phoenix’s energy is inside of him. As for me, unfortunately, eternal youth and eternal life isn't the same thing. I’d be fair game if he could get his hands on me.” She said.

“That’s not gonna happen.” Derek said darkly. 

Elizabeth smiled weakly before continuing. “However, if he takes the power back it leaves me and Stiles completely vulnerable.”

“How’s he gonna do that?” Scott asked.

“He’s gonna exorcise it right back out of us and take it for himself. Our energy is partial to our original host, that’s why I knew it was him the moment he showed up on our doorstep.” Elizabeth said. She was getting dizzy from all the pacing and finally rested into the chair sitting beside Scott’s desk.

“How did he find you?” Derek asked.

“Must’ve sensed the energy and followed it.” Elizabeth said with a shrug.

“You think he could do the same to Stiles?” Kira asked.

Elizabeth tensed. “If he hasn't already.”

Scott pulled out his phone and immediately called the boy in question, demanding that he get his ass to his house as soon as possible and telling him that he was in no way, shape, or form to talk to creepy old men. 

“Why not?” Stiles asked over the line.

“Since when do you need a reason not to talk to creepy old men?” Scott asked incredulously.

“Point taken. I’m there in ten.” Stiles said, completely unaware of the situation.

***

After almost a month and no sign nor sound from Veneficus, the pack was beginning to relax again. After the initial panic Stiles actually took the news of The Black Death’s presence in Beacon Hills surprisingly well.

The pack doubled up on their security of Stiles. Two pack members sat and watched him every night, and those who weren’t watching Stiles were probably trying to keep up with Elizabeth who had a knack for transmuting around town in an act of defiance. 

“I’m not afraid of him!” She’d cried when she returned to loft with an ice cream cone in hand to find Isaac fretting over her whereabouts while Derek cursed her straight to Hell.

February disappeared into March, and with no more visits from Veneficus the pack finally returned to life as normal.

The warm weather of spring was settling over Beacon Hills, bringing with it sunshine and fresh air and new beginnings. Elizabeth was just coming back from another Girls’ Day when she checked her phone and saw a single message from Stiles.

**_STILES STILINSKI:_** LIFE OR DEATH. 

Her phone slipped from her hand and before it even hit the ground, the room was empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO THE REST OF THE STORY IS WRITTEN AND READY FOR POSTING. I think everyone will like it and I'm excited to share it with you guys.
> 
> HOOOOOOOOOOORAY FOR SOMEONE FINALLY GETTING A CLUE IN THIS GOD FORSAKEN STORY.
> 
> AND A SMALLER HOORAY FOR PLOT DEVELOPMENT
> 
> AND A REALLY BIG HOORAY FOR EVERYONE AND THEY'RE AWESOME INPUT AND COMMENTS, WHICH I TOTAL LOVE.
> 
> MISTAKES ARE ALL MINE, LEMME KNOW IF THERE ARE ANY!!!


	17. Rite of Passage

“Prom…?”

“Yes, Prom.”

“You sent me a text saying, ‘LIFE OR DEATH’, and I bent the laws of reality to…be asked to prom…?”

“I’m not sure what’s not clear here, Prom’s next week, and if I don’t have a date, I might as well just die now…”

“Stiles, you can’t be serious about this…I came here because I thought Veneficus had you!”

The boy in front of her rolled his eyes as he collapsed against his bed. “Screw Veiny Ficus or whoever the hell that guy is. I know it sounds stupid, but everyone else’s got someone to go with! Scott and Kira, Lydia and Jackson, Erica and Boyd, hell even Isaac found someone to go with his snarky ass. And here I am, severely single Stiles, once again dateless on what is supposed to be the best night of my high school career!”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at the dramatics, her eyes darting around Stiles’s room. “Surely you can find someone else, Stiles. You’re a great looking guy; you’re on the lacrosse team!”

“You forget that I’m awkward and don’t have washboard abs. I might as well be a water bubbler for all I get noticed in that school.” He whined, sitting up and flailing spastically as he let out a keening sound, “Please, Liz! You’re my last hope.”

“Well you sure know how to make a girl feel special.” She said, fingers sliding along Stiles’s dresser as she began to wander about the room, pointedly avoiding the question.

“Look, you’re not my first choice, and I know this would be the favor of a life time and I’ll do anything you ask me to for the rest of my life, just please do me this one major solid! You’re cool and you’re new and maybe if I take a girl like you to prom, people will actually see me as more than McCall’s dorky side kick!” Stiles was full out begging at this point, hands clasped to his chest and eyes wide. Elizabeth had to look away from him before those eyes sucked her in forever.

“Who’s your first choice? Why can’t you ask them?”

Stiles let out a humorless laugh, “Oh, God no, they’d kill me if I tried. Plus I’m not sure if it would even be allowed…”

That made Elizabeth pause. “Stiles, are you trying to bring a wanted fugitive to Prom?”

“Something like that.”

Elizabeth nodded her approval, “I like your style.” She continued her loop about the room, pausing at Stiles’ desk where Lydia’s drawings sat beside a framed picture of him and Scott on their first day of high school, and a picture of his father, his mother, and himself sitting on a dock overlooking the ocean at sunset. “Is it Lydia? Still holding out for her?”

“Nah, The Lydia Era has come and gone.” Stiles said with a twinge of pride. “Moved on to bigger and more unattainable fish.

“Thatta boy, aim high.” Elizabeth said with a smile, picking up the open book lying on Stiles’s desk. She recognized it as one of Derek’s, and flipped through the pages to find Derek’s messy scrawl squished into the margins of the pages in faded black ink. A few of the comments were followed by different handwriting in red ink, which she assumed belonged to Stiles. The comments were mostly Stiles agreeing or disagreeing with Derek’s notes, but others, he was laughing at the sarcastic comments Derek had made about the author’s understanding of werewolves. She flipped through the rest of the book, and realized that Stiles had done this to the entire thing. She closed the book gently and rested it on the desk, not turning to face Stiles when she asked, “Derek?”

A moment of hesitation that lasted just a second too long to be natural followed her question, but Stiles tried to cover it with a casual, “What about him?”

Elizabeth spun on the spot, her smile positively wolfish as she closed in on Stiles, who was now scrambling toward his headboard in an attempt to get away.

“Is Derek your first choice? Is that who you’d like to take to Prom? The wanted and hopelessly unattainable fugitive is the King of All Things Man-Pain Derek Hale?” She asked quickly, crawling into Stiles’s bed and climbing atop him, holding his wrists beside his head to ensure his capture. “Is that who you wanna show off to your classmates, huh, Stiles? Huh? Huh!”

“YES! JESUS! Alright? YES!” Stiles finally confided, his eyes falling anywhere but the gleeful face of the girl above him.

Elizabeth smirked victoriously. “Well you’re right about two things there, kiddo: One, Derek Hale showing up to a high school dance is definitely not gonna fly with the administration, and Two: I’m pretty sure he would kill you if you even asked him to show up to something as fun and joyous as a high school prom. But…” Elizabeth said, and her eyes were dancing with light as she watched Stiles wait, “as for unattainable…”

Stiles jerked up so quickly that their foreheads bumped together painfully. “But as for unattainable? Go on, woman, spit it out, I’m not getting any younger!”

“I’m not confirming or denying anything: but Derek has a type, my dear. He likes dangerous women and innocent men, and you, my darling, are about as innocent as they come.”

Stiles looked completely put out by that assessment, “I am not!” He sputtered, “Oh, you have no idea what I am! I am a tiger, just you wait and see. Innocent, me? No way, just you wait and see, I am an animal.” He said, hyping himself up with every word.

Elizabeth just watched with an arched eyebrow before she crawled off of him with a resigned, “Whatever you say, Stiles.”

“So, will you go with me instead?” Stiles asked again, softer this time, and Elizabeth knew she was a goner.

She sighed deeply as she stood in the doorway, “What color are you wearing?”

“Shouldn't I be asking you that question?” Stiles asked as a grin split across his face.

“’S your prom, not mine, kiddo.” She said over her shoulder as she left the room. She was halfway across Stiles’s lawn and headed towards the side walk when she heard Stiles call her name as he pushed his window open and hung his upper body out of it.

“I’m thinking red?” He called.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, “Keep it up, Stilinski. He’ll get what you’re trying to do eventually.”

“You think?” Stiles said hopefully.

“Even Derek’s not that oblivious.” She said, turning back toward the house. “I’ll get something black, if you think you can manage a black tie.” She paused to glare at him. “And another thing! The next time I get an emergency text from you, you’d better be dying.”

“You've got it my beautiful, lifesaving Southern belle!” Stiles shouted, and Elizabeth laughed wildly as she flipped him off and transmuted back to the loft.

She cringed at the thought of explaining to Derek and Peter where she’d be the following Saturday night.

***

He ambushed her at lunch the next day, sliding into his seat in a hurricane of limbs and loose papers that were falling from his notebooks. “So when you say innocent…”

Elizabeth pointedly set down her sandwich and rolled her eyes until they came to a rest at the boy to her left, who was looking at her like she held the key to the entire universe.

“…do you mean, like, ‘I’m still a virgin’ or do you mean, ‘I have no idea about the entire concept of sin’, because I can be one of those, but I definitely can’t be both. That ship has sailed, my friend. That ship has sailed and sunk and taken the captain and his crew down with it, let me tell ya.”

“Stiles.” Elizabeth said sharply, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I mean you look innocent. You've got wide eyes, pink lips, cheeks that light up at the smallest hint of embarrassment. You’re the poster child for jailbait, kid, own it.”

“I’m only jailbait for another couple’ve months! Do you think that would matter to him? Do you think he cares?” Stiles began worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

Elizabeth should be paid for this. “No, Stiles, I really don’t think he cares. I think Derek has bigger problems than the Age of Consent in California. ‘Sides, Derek rarely thinks of the Big Picture like that. He’s an ‘In the Moment’ kinda guy.”

“Well I’d like to be in a moment with him, preferably soon, preferably a moment with Barry White playing softly in a room full of lit candles on a bed with silk sheets and—.”

Elizabeth shut him up with a warning glare. “That boy is a brother to me and I will not sit here and listen to your teenage fantasies about him.”

“Who’s got Stiles all bent out of shape this time?” Erica asked as she swooped down on the table.

Stiles gave Elizabeth a glare that said if she spilled, she’d be dead and the body would never be found. She liked he chances, though. “You’ll never guess.”

“Do I know them?”

“Oh, you most certainly do.”

“Pack?”

“You bet.”

“Derek?”

“Bingo.”

Stiles was sputtering indignantly, looking between the two girls on either side of him. “Fir—oh god, first of all, screw you! Worst secret keeper ever!” He said while turned to Elizabeth, then he spun in his seat to face Erica, “And you, how did you guess so fast? Does everyone know? Does he know?”

“Take deep breaths, Little Red, Big Bad has no idea you have the hots for him. Though, I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s the most oblivious person on the planet. The entire pack can smell it coming off you, you know.” She said smartly, delighting in the whine that Stiles let out as he banged his head off of the cafeteria table. “Of course, Derek thinks you’re still lusting after Lydia, but Isaac and I know better. Naturally Isaac asked Scott about it, and our dear Alpha has been picking up on some stuff, too. Glad you finally caught up with the rest of us.”

Stiles was red in the face when he sat back up, looking like the picture of misery. “What am I gonna do, guys? He’s so out of my league. We’re not even in the same sport. I’m miniature golf and he’s Olympic Hockey. I’m not even a blip on his stupid wolf-y radar.”

“We can smell it on him, too, dumbass.” Erica said blandly, pulling her bagged lunch from her backpack as if she hadn't just dropped a bomb that blew Stiles’s entire world apart. 

“He feels it, too? He wants a piece of this?” Stiles gestured wildly to his body while Erica and Elizabeth met eyes in a ‘What did we do to deserve this?’ stare. “What’s stopping him?”

“First of all,” Erica explained in a tone that expressed just how done she was with this topic already, “he thinks you’re still wrapped up in Lydia. Second of all, he doesn't wanna put you in danger like that, because God knows what could happen to you if someone realized you’re his weakness. And third of all, your dad is the friggin Sherriff, and that’s the reason why everyone in this school is afraid to date you, never mind a werewolf who’s older than you with two arrests under his belt.”

Stiles looked frozen in thought for a minute before his bottom lip jutted out pitifully and he whined deep in his throat.

***

She nearly got away with not telling them at all. That was until Lydia, Erica, and Kira were at Derek’s loft, vibrating with glee as the stood in the open doorway, taking Elizabeth by both arms and dragging her down the hall, Erica and Kira’s gleeful giggles bouncing around the halls.

Peter popped his head through the doorway and raised a curious eyebrow. “Not that I care…at all…but where do you think you’re going with my nephew’s ball and chain?”

“Dress shopping for Prom!” Kira called back. Elizabeth let out a mortified groan, and only then did all three girls realize their mistake.

Peter shone like Christmas had arrived.

“Oh, really, Lizzy? And when were you gonna tell us? Who’s the lucky devil who finally swayed you into the world of dating?” Peter asked, now stepping fully into the hallway.

“I’m going with Stiles, as a friend, since the person he wanted to take is…unavailable.” Elizabeth finished awkwardly. Peter looked perplexed by this, but it was a fleeting feeling, apparently, because a moment later he was waving the girls away with a blasé expression and wishing them luck. He absently tossed out that he’d be sure to tell Derek where they’d gone, and Elizabeth flinched, knowing she’d return home to their smug faces in a matter of hours.

“So who was Stiles really gonna ask?” Kira asked after they’d descended a few flights, far out of the earshot of Peter or Derek.

“He didn’t tell me.” Elizabeth lied, and the dead eye contact she made with Erica told her that it didn't go unnoticed.

“C’mon, Eli, spill it. Stilinski’s not fessing up, and I've grilled half the student body with no results. I’m dying over here.” Lydia whined.

“Really, I shouldn't say, it’s Stiles’s business…” Elizabeth attempted, but Lydia had a look in her eyes that said she wasn't giving up on this. It was this look that Elizabeth feared would continue to hang in the banshee’s eyes long after Elizabeth told her who Stiles was pining for, because something told her that Lydia would stop at nothing to make something happen between the two.

“If I guess, would you tell me?” She asked wickedly, as if she already had a name in mind.

“Probably not.” Elizabeth replied coolly.

“Is it Derek?”

Apparently she did have a name in mind, a very correct name that she looked very confident in.

Erica laughed, and Elizabeth’s eyes darted about, not daring to make contact with Lydia. “What makes you think that?”

“What makes me think I’m absolutely, one hundred percent, beyond a shadow of a doubt correct? Well…” Lydia said smugly, turning on her heel and effectively blocking the girls from going any further down the winding stairs. “Besides the fact that Stiles looks like a living, breathing, heart-eyes-emoji every time he gets within a five foot radius of the guy, Stiles has completely given up his pursuit of me. Not that I mind at all, but I was wondering when his interest in me started to waver, and you wanna know what I came up with? Right around the time Scott got bitten, also known as the time Derek entered the picture.” Her lips pursed together in a tight and knowing smirk, daring anyone to disagree with her logic.

“Well, in his defense, he only just owned up to the feelings the other day…” Elizabeth tried uselessly, because Lydia was already alight with the victory of being right, and Kira’s mouth was hanging wide open. Clearly she hadn't been as astute in her observations as Lydia.

“Is that why Scott gives Stiles so much crap about Derek?” She asked, as if a million puzzle pieces were suddenly sliding together. “I can’t believe he didn't tell me!”

***

“There she is!” Peter said with wicked glee as Elizabeth tried to slip quietly back into the loft with her dress held tightly in her arms. “How’d it go, princess?”

“Great.” She answered flatly, glaring daggers at the man slouching in the recliner in the make-shift den. 

“What color’s the dress?” Peter asked, and Elizabeth knew he was mocking her, but she figured appeasing him may work better than ignoring him.

“Black, Stiles wants to wear a red tux.” She answered, already moving toward the room which had once belonged to Derek, but she now called theirs.

“Red?” Peter said, sounding personally affronted by the bold choice.

“Red.” Elizabeth confirmed, setting the dress down on the bed before heading back into the open space. “Where’s Der, I figured you two would be chomping at the bits to get in your two cents about this.”

“My nephew decided to go for a run in the woods. He didn't seem half as delighted as I was to hear you’d be going to Prom with Mr. Stilinski. He must be devastated, seeing his little girl all grown up. You’ll just have to take four cents from me, instead.”

Elizabeth scoffed and walked past Peter on her way to the spiral stairs, heading for the library to find a book that Lydia had asked for while they’d been dress shopping.

***

Derek didn't come back until midnight.

Elizabeth and Peter were pacing the floor in front of the door when he finally came home, and they had matching faces of relief when he finally stepped into the loft in his running gear, pulling his head phones from his ears with a curious expression.

“Did I…break curfew, or something?” He asked as he pushed past them.

“You were gone for twelve hours, Derek!” Peter cried.

“I gotta call off the pack; tell them you’re home safe…” Elizabeth said as she pulled out her phone.

After Peter had interrupted her in the library around nine o’clock to ask her if she’d heard from Derek, she’d put a call out to Scott to get a few wolves and take to the woods to look for him. Scott had grabbed Isaac, Jackson, and an adamant Stiles and took to the woods in search of him.

“Wait, you sent the pack out after me?” Derek said, rounding on his uncle and his friend.

“Don’t you look at us like that!” Elizabeth said sharply, “You’re the one who went AWOL for twelve hours. You left us no choice! No phone calls, not even so much as a lousy text?”

“I left my phone at home.” Derek said as he turned away again. “Didn't wanna be disturbed. It won’t happen again.”

Elizabeth watched him go, but she knew this was far from over. Derek wasn't one to disappear like that, and Elizabeth knew there was something more going on here. For the time being, she called Scott and told him that Derek had returned home safe, and in one piece.

“Great, you mind telling that to Stiles personally before I claw my own face off?” Scott said, clearly irritated beyond all possible belief.

“Put him on the phone.”

She listened as Scott handed Stiles the phone, and she heard it shift around in Stiles’s grip before he huffed out a panicked, “Is he really back?” as a greeting. In the background, she heard Scott delivering the news of Derek’s return to Jackson and Isaac, the former letting out a relived grunt and the latter asking rather loudly, ‘ _Does that mean he’ll finally shut up?_ ’

“Hello to you too, Stiles, and yes he’s back. He says he just needed some time alone.”

“Alone time? That’s his excuse? Oh, we are going to have a word.” Stiles said, and Elizabeth laughed at the way he sounded more like an indignant spouse than a pissed off friend.

“Alright Stiles, I’ll be sure to tell him. Get some sleep now, you hear?” She said before hanging up the phone. She turned back to see Peter staring at her oddly. “What?”

“Stilinksi…” He muttered softly, and Elizabeth could hear the gears turning, and she feared what was coming next. “He seems to have taken a particular interest in the well-being of my nephew.”

Elizabeth gave a non-committal shrug. 

“If I didn't know better…” Peter began, but suddenly seemed to think better of it. “No, that’s impossible. Never in a million years.”

Elizabeth swallowed thickly as she slipped her phone into her pocked. “Uh…what’s, uh, what’s not possible?” She asked, feigning non-chalance.

Peter’s face began sliding into a grin. “Do you know something I don’t, my dear Lizzy-Tish?” He closed in on her, and Elizabeth began backing away slowly, shaking her head while her eyes darted about the room.

Maybe Stiles was right, maybe she was the worst secret keeper ever.

Or maybe Stiles was just a shitty secret hider.

“You think I don’t remember you saying earlier that Stiles would have liked to have gone with someone else, but couldn't?” He put special emphasis on the ‘someone else’ and quirked an eyebrow. Elizabeth’s back hit the wall. “Could that special someone, perhaps, be my dear nephew?”

“Psh, who, Derek?” She asked as if Peter had more than one nephew. “Nah, psh, no way!” She said, waving a hand like it was the most foolish idea in the world. “He was gonna ask a girl from the cheer squad, but he gave up on that.” She lied on the spot.

Peter noticed.

Closing in, he leered over her, his face smug like he knew victory was on the horizon. “You think it’s escaped my notice that for the past few months, Mr. Stilinski’s presence has become more and more common in this loft? At first, I thought it was because of your “bonding”, but then he started lingering after pack meetings. You’d be off with the pack doing who knows what and he’d be here, with Derek, happy as a clam doing absolutely nothing with his Saturday night but watching my nephew turn the pages of a book.”

Oh yeah, Stiles was the worst secret hider in all of existence. He was pining so hard he probably smelled like pine scented air fresheners.

“I’m sure he just wanted to give everyone space, y’know?” She tried, and the disbelieving look on Peter’s face told her she was getting nowhere, but for Stiles’s sake she was going to keep trying. “He knows what everyone else gets up to on a Saturday night! They all end up in pairs!”

“So then where do you go?” Peter asked smartly. He could have a real career has an interrogator, if Elizabeth wasn't inclined to believe he’d be the most power hungry and self-serving cop Beacon Hills had ever seen.

“Well I mean, sometimes Jackson like to chill with Danny, so I hang with Lydia… And I've got Isaac, too.” She supplied, and that wasn't a total lie. On the nights that Danny and Jackson would have their bro-time, Lydia and Elizabeth would take to the mall, and Lydia would try (and fail) to get Elizabeth to buy anything that looked like it would be worn by a modern day teenager.

“And Stiles couldn't join you because…”

“Because, it’s girl time! Stiles wouldn’t be into that! And when Jackson and Danny get together it’s hard to keep up with them.” Elizabeth said, and now that she was on a roll, she felt that maybe, just maybe, she could get Peter off Stiles’s back.

Peter’s eyes searched her face for a moment, and then a grin split across his own. He sauntered backwards while nodding slowly, and Elizabeth took this to be his sign of surrender. She let out a deep breath she didn't know she was holding.

“I hope Mr. Stilinski continues to come around.” Peter said off handedly as he settled back into the chair he’d been in before. “Derek’s mood improves so much when he’s around. In fact, I’d almost consider his presence tolerable.”

Elizabeth just nodded jerkily and took to the staircase, two at a time, in an effort to leave Peter and his series of questions behind. That was too close for comfort, and she’d have to be sure to warn Stiles that if he didn't put on the breaks, all of Beacon Hills was gonna know about his little crush.

She reached the top of the stairs just as Derek was about to step down, a towel wrapped snug about his waist and his hair soaked and disheveled against his forehead. He looked tired but not like he needed sleep, more like he was drained from the inside. Elizabeth took his forearm and dragged him away from the stairs, pulling him along until they were seated in the library, or rather the small love-seat that sat among a few mismatched book shelves that Stiles had brought together so they’d have a safe place to keep the pack’s books.

Derek was grumbling about not even having time to put on pants when Elizabeth talked over him. “Where’d you go tonight?”

“I was just on a—“

“Before you go on and bullshit me, how about I cut you off right there, yeah?” Elizabeth cut across him, and Derek’s eyebrows shot up his face. “Don’t you look at me like that. You weren't on a run, you were running from something.”

Derek scoffed at her, “No I wasn't.”

“You gonna keep bullshitting me, or are you gonna respect me and treat me like the friend I am?” Elizabeth quipped, and that seemed to resonate with Derek, because his mouth gaped a few times before his shoulders finally slumped and he actually looked a bit sheepish.

“It’s stupid, really. I don’t know what I’m thinking…” Derek said, running his hand through his slick hair. Elizabeth had half a mind to take a picture and send it off to Stiles, because she was a good friend like that.

“C’mon, Der, talk to me.” Elizabeth said, scooting closer to him and laying her chin on his damp shoulder.

Derek’s eyes shifted to meet hers and he let out a breathy laugh. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this…”

“Derek, come on now, you told me when you realized you swung both ways. You told me you listen to ABBA when the mood strikes you and cry to Extreme Makeover Home Edition! There’s nothing you could possibly say that surprises me anymore.”

“I’m jealous of you.” Derek spat out so fast that Elizabeth had to lift her chin to get a good look at his face, unsure if he’d actually said anything at all until she was able to see for herself the dark blush staining his scruffy cheeks.

She burst out laughing; back thudding against the cushions of the sofa as she rocked side to side with unstoppable chuckles. “Oh, Derek, you complete dumbass!” She managed to choke out between howls of laughter. When she was finally able to open her eyes again, she met Derek’s pissed off glare and was sent spiraling into another fit of giggles.

“Forget I said anything.” Derek muttered darkly, and moved to get up, but Elizabeth flung her legs across his lap to stop him.

“Don’t you dare, Der-Bear. You and I clearly need to have a heart-to-heart.” She breathed out, her laughter finally subsiding when she realized how important this was to Derek. “Now, you say you’re jealous of me?”

Derek gave a small shrug.

“Because of…”

“Prom.”

“Prom?” Elizabeth said with a chuckle. “You’re jealous I’m going?”

“That’s part of it…”

Elizabeth’s smirk could probably be seen from space. “You’re jealous of who I’m going with?”

Derek groaned and fell back against the cushions, and Elizabeth laughed some more at how hopelessly pathetic her friends were.

“You know he and I are only going as friends, right? He’s the only one without a date in the pack, and he didn't want to be alone on Prom night.” Elizabeth explained, curling into Derek’s side to soothe him.

“I know that, obviously. It's just...I was gonna…oh God, it was so stupid.” Derek began, but the blush that was still present on his cheeks seemed to keep him from speaking.

“You were gonna what?”

“I was gonna see if he wanted to…but obviously he’d rather go to Prom, I mean, it’s Prom, it’s a rite of passage, and…”

“Earth to Derek, there’s another human being in this room who has no idea what you’re talking about!” Elizabeth announced, waving a hand back and forth in front of Derek’s eyes.

“Right, yeah, sorry. I was just saying how…Look, it seems stupid in hindsight, but I was gonna see if he wanted to go out somewhere… No Peter lurking around, no pack…”  
“Just you.”

Derek shrugged again. Elizabeth crawled as close as she could and wrapped him in a suffocating hug.

“You big marshmallow!” She mumbled, going so far as to pinch his cheeks. “You big, dumb softy!”

Derek pushed her off with a halfhearted shove, “It was nothing, I just figured that Isaac’d scoop you up, and he’d be alone.”

“What made you think Isaac would be the one to ask me?” She asked out of curiosity.

“Oh, just that he’d been waxing poetic about how he wishes he could awaken the flame inside you, plant the seed in your everlasting garden, take—."

Elizabeth beat Derek over the head with a pillow, giggling about how he’d gotten into one too many sappy romance novels. When he’d finally removed the pillow from her hand, the two settled back into the sofa, and soon Derek’s storm cloud seemed to have returned.

“How about this!” Elizabeth began hopefully, springing from the sofa to stand before Derek. “After Prom, we all come back here for the after party!”

Derek looked like he thought Hitler’s Third Reich was a more appealing plan of action than sweaty drunk teenagers fumbling around his loft.

“Hear me out, hear me out.” She said defensively. “We come back from the dance, everyone’s tired, we’re just looking to have some drinks, do a little more dancing, and then hit the sack without having to worry about parents and hangovers and all that good stuff. Now picture this:” She holds her hands out like she’s presenting a masterpiece. “It’s late, the party’s winding down. I pass out on the couch because I’m a top-notch best friend. Everyone else is scattered around the loft, already passed the hell out from a long night of having the time of their young lives. You’re cleaning up after the party and Stiles comes up to you and asks if he can help you. And you say yes, but his idea of ‘helping you’ is way different from what you were thinking, because suddenly he’s on you like white on rice, and he can’t get his suit off fast enough, and—."

“Enough, Zab, enough, Jesus!” Derek sputters, though Elizabeth can tell his pupils are bigger and his eyes are darker, and now instead of muted horror, he’s got his thinking face on. He’s seriously considering it.

“Okay, alright, that was a little much, but I’m serious! We get a little liquor flowing for the adults, that’s us.” She gestured to herself and Derek, and when Derek gave her skeptical eyebrows, she indignantly scoffed that she was over 500 years old and hence well beyond the drinking age. “We’ll get you loosened up, get you dancing, and maybe we could persuade Stiles to dance with you!”

Elizabeth knew it would take little to no convincing, but she figured that was Stiles’s secret to tell, not hers. 

After briefly going to war with himself, Derek resurfaced from his mental battle with a look of resignation. “Fine. But if they break anything, they’re out!”

“Oh, I know. God forbid the break the fine China and precious family heirlooms that are absolutely covering the place, right?” She asked sarcastically, gesturing to the mostly barren walls and floors of the loft. 

She pulled out her phone under the pretense of telling the gang what the plan was for after prom, but couldn't help but sneak in a picture of Derek looking artfully disheveled and reclining in the love seat to pass on to Stiles.

Derek rolled his eyes and got up, nudging past her to get to the stairs, mumbling about finally putting on some damn pants. 

Stiles’s response came before he hit the bottom step.

_**STILES STILINSKI:** You’re the worst friend I've ever had._

_**STILES STILINSKI:** That being said, me and my dick thank you for what you've done._

_Elizabeth pulled a face and slipped her phone back into her pocket._

__

***

Saturday came like a whirlwind.

Elizabeth hardly had her eyes open by the time that Lydia and Erica had her each by an arm, hauling her from the warmth of Derek’s bed, speaking excitedly about fittings and hair and make-up and god knows what else, and Elizabeth could hardly process anything other than her desire to curl back up in bed. 

She passed Derek by the door and he was looking so smug that she knew this ambush was his doing. Elizabeth glared at him through her sleep glazed eyes, shaking her head menacingly as they passed. She hadn't even been given the option of slipping on shoes before beginning their decent down the stairs.

“Sorry, Zab, the door was open!” Her ex-best friend called after her.

Kira was waiting in her car outside of the loft, both hers and Erica’s dresses hanging in their cellophane bags in the backseat. When Elizabeth grumbled about not having her dress, Erica held up the hand not gripping Elizabeth’s shoulder to present the dress in question. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Of course they wouldn't forget anything.

“I've been planning this since second grade. It’s going to be nothing but smooth sailing today.” Lydia said with ease as she climbed into the passenger seat, leaving Erica and Elizabeth squished in the back next to the piles of sequins and silk.

It truly concerned Elizabeth at how right Lydia was. The day moved on like a well-oiled machine. The girls arrived at Lydia’s house at noon, at which time they hung their dresses from her closet doors and each took their time showering. By two o’clock the girls were washed and ready to start in on hair and make-up.

Lydia laughed as she watched Kira pull her make-up bag from her purse, sauntering over and tucking it back into the smaller girl’s satchel with a tight lipped smile. “Kira, did you honestly think we’d be doing our own make up on the biggest night of our lives?”

Kira looked stunned, “I mean, yeah?”

Lydia shook her head slowly, looking at Kira like she’d grown two heads before glancing at the watch on her wrist. “My mother’s stylists will be here any minute, they’ve been doing her hair and make up for years, and they’ll take great care of us.”

And within ten minutes, the aforementioned stylists joined them in Lydia’s room, sizing up each girl with a critical eye before each grabbing their own girl and plopping her on any open flat surface that was within spitting distance of an electrical outlet.

Elizabeth’s head was spinning. She’d never had a chance to go to Prom in the time she’d spent in Beacon Hills. Not that seniors had a Prom, anyway. It was strictly a junior tradition at BHHS. The seniors instead planned a class vacation to Los Angeles or some other glamorous area in California where they spent a weekend cherishing the dwindling moments they had together. Her first time through Beacon Hills she’d missed the class trip to Laguna Beach by a couple of weeks and this year’s trip had the graduating class of 2014 headed for Disneyland. She’d always liked the idea of Disneyland… 

But for now she was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of Prom while in front of her, her stylist (his name was teetering over the edge of what she called Too French to Function) was trying to wrap a braid around her head. She winced in pain as he shoved the umpteenth bobby pin none too gently into her skull, but she remained silent, allowing him to work her hair into a beautiful bun at the back of her head.

Kira looked to be in the same amount of pain, and they made commiserating faces at each other from across the room. Erica was extremely vocal with her stylist, wasting no time in telling the woman just how much “that fuckin’ HURTS!” Lydia hardly paid them any attention, but instead filed her nails while her stylist worked tirelessly about her, working her hair into an intricate bun at the top of her head. While he worked, she spoke hurriedly of how they’d have thirty minutes for make-up, twenty minutes for dressing, allow themselves another half-hour for girls-only pictures, and then head over to Scott’s house for group photos.

Elizabeth hoped Derek would make it for pictures. She’d spoke to him about it off handedly Thursday night, telling him she’d love to have a couple of pictures of them together to take back to Louisiana when all was said and done. He’d looked at her strangely for a moment after she’d said that but recovered and said that he’d try to be there, but that it wasn't really his place. Elizabeth had scoffed and told him that anywhere the pack was, was his place. He’d smiled softly at that, but his smile turned into a scowl when Elizabeth also mentioned he’d get to see how good Stiles looked in a tux.

She’d laughed herself silly at the look on his face.

When their hair was deemed acceptable, the make-up came out, and after having sat for nearly an hour Elizabeth was stiff when she finally sprung from the nightstand that she’d been seated at. She studied herself in the mirror that Frenchy-Pants offered her, and for a moment she was stunned. She wasn’t used to being pampered, and her usual make-up routine was nothing more than concealer, eyeliner, and a prayer, but he’d transformed her into a beautiful young lady, and she hoped that her loud squeal and suffocating hug conveyed how thankful she was.

The other girls looked beautiful as well. Kira had opted for a tight pony tail that was sleek and straight, causing her hair to fall all the way down to the middle of her back. Erica’s hair was in a low side bun with small powder pink roses woven intricately among the blonde tresses. When Lydia commented on how out of place the flowers seemed with Erica’s usual style, Erica said that she liked flowers just as much as she liked leather. Lydia’s hair was so intricate that Elizabeth had trouble following it, but was able to pick out beautiful curls cascading from a high bun, and her strawberry blonde hair was shimmering with a light dusting of glitter.

She felt like she’d fallen into a fairy tale. 

The stylists left in a flurry of hugs and kisses, wishing them good luck on the night of their lives. Frenchy-Pants even went so far as to toss them condoms on his way out. Elizabeth looked at hers with a gaping mouth before Kira snatched it from her hand and stuffed it in her bra.

“What, not like you were gonna use it anyway!” She explained innocently.

The temperature in the room spiked about a thousand degrees when they began getting dressed, slipping into their gowns and cramming their feet into shoes that they all knew they’d be kicking off as soon as they got on the dance floor. They helped each other navigate tricky zippers and nagging tags, and with the exception of Erica snagging Kira’s hair in her zipper, the ordeal went without a hitch.

Kira’s dress was a shimmering silver strapless piece, sequined from top to bottom and she looked like the world’s most elegant disco ball as the lights in the room refracted from it and sent glittering circles spiraling about Lydia’s walls with every minute move she made. On anyone else, Elizabeth would have thought it would be gaudy, or heavy, or just plain disastrous, but Kira was positively glowing, though that could have just been a trick of the dress as well.

Erica had opted for a short dress, which she had crudely suggested was for “easy access”. It was a soft pink color that blended nicely with her skin, making her look ethereal, like one of those painting of angels you see in churches or hung in classic museums. She hardly looked like her usual self, her dark eye shadow and lipstick traded for muted gold and pinks that lit her face up and made her look younger than Elizabeth had ever seen her.

Lydia, ever the fashionista, had picked the most gorgeous dress that Elizabeth had ever seen. It began as a loft lilac around her bust, but faded gently into an ivory around her feet, and all about the torso there was intricate bead work that was about as complicated as her hair. A high slit revealed miles of creamy white legs, and Elizabeth was confident that Lydia could have walked a red carpet and no one would have spoken out.

Elizabeth now looked at her own dress choice with trepidation, fearing she’d been too plain. The girls reassured her, however, that she’d made a great choice, and that if she’d done anything bolder, she and Stiles would have looked like the biggest jackasses at Prom.

Stiles and his damn red suit.

Her dress was simple: all black and backless, clinging to her curves until it dropped off at her hips, falling to the ground in an effortless flow that rippled like water when she walked. She accessorized with two thick silver gauntlets about her wrist that she may or may not have recycled from her Wonder Woman costume, but no one had to know that. And no one, especially Lydia, would know that beneath all that fabric, she had managed to sneakily slip on her beloved combat boots so as to have a completely painless evening.

“Isaac is going to weep, my dear.” Lydia said as she braced two firm hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders. “Positively weep.”

***

There was no weeping, but Isaac did open the door for them when they arrived, and when his eyes fell on Elizabeth he let out a long-suffering whine. Elizabeth let out a good natured laugh and kissed him on the cheek, finding his hopeless crush adorable.

“Don’t you have a date, sweetie?” She asked, following him and the rest of the girls into the packed living room where flashes were going off nearly nonstop.

“I do, but she’s just a friend. Besides, she seems way more interested in Peter, unfortunately.” Isaac said in that miserable and sarcastic tone he sometimes took on.

“Peter’s here?” Elizabeth asked, finding hard to believe that Peter of all people would be able to stomach sitting through something as benign as picture taking. “Does that mean Derek’s here, too?”

“Oh yeah.” Isaac said with a smirk. “Why do you think Scott’s sitting with Stiles upstairs trying to get him to come down?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, “I’ll go talk to him.” She separated from Isaac and took to the stairs, passing Sherriff Stilinski on the way and laughing when he pointed vaguely towards Scott’s room and told her to get him out of there, even if she had to do it the hard way.

Upon entering Scott’s room, two heads snapped to look at her so fast she got second hand whiplash. “Chill, boys, it’s just me, trying to find my lovely date for this evening.”  
“I can’t go down there, I look like an idiot!” Stiles cried, gesturing to his body. 

Elizabeth slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. “Stand up, you idiot. I can’t tell you how good you look if you’re curled up on the ground.

Stiles huffed, but obeyed, clambering to his feet and brushing off any stray dirt that may have clung to him.

“I’m telling you, bro, you look good!” Scott said, sounding exasperated. He’d probably told Stiles that at least one hundred times, judging by the look on his face.

“Scotty, darling, Kira’s down there. Why don’t you tell your date how good she looks instead? I’ll handle this.” Elizabeth said, taking Scott’s seat on his bed as the Alpha made for the door. When he’d shut it behind him, Elizabeth turned her eyes back to Stiles and began slowly appraising every detail: The sleek black shoes, the deep red tuxedo pants that clung to his long legs, the white dress shirt and red tuxedo jacket that stretched across his chest and shoulders, accentuating the growing muscles he’d been accumulating since training had picked up… Even his hair looked magnificent and was just the right amount of artfully tousled.

“Stiles!” She said incredulously, “Babe, you look hot! I don’t know what you’re thinking here.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, “Its red, Liz! I don’t know what I was thinking when I did this, I look like a…a…”

“Smokin’ hot piece of ass?”

“No!”

“Yes!” She retorted, springing from the bed to grab his wrist and drag him to the door. “Stiles Stilinski, if you don’t get your pretty little ass down those stairs right this minute, I’ll get Derek himself to drag you out of here.”

Stiles startled at that, “You wouldn’t dare.”

She quirked an eyebrow and opened her mouth to scream, but Stiles clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Alright, alright, I get it. I’m coming.” He said sheepishly, turning around to look at himself one last time in the mirror. “You sure I look alright?”

“I’m sure you look hotter than the pits of hell, sweetheart. Now let’s go show you off, yeah?” Elizabeth said with a smile, gently pulling Stiles along and opening the door. Naturally Scott was still standing there, having listened to every word. He was smiling one of his big, dopey smiles and Elizabeth affectionately ruffled his hair, but was careful not to mess it up too badly in lieu of the pictures. “Nosey boy!” She said as she passed him.

Scott clapped Stiles on the shoulder as he exited the room. “What the hell did she say that I didn't?”

Stiles just laughed and nudged Scott with his elbow, and the three of them descended the stairs together.

Melissa turned the corner unexpectedly and snapped a candid of the three of them on the stairs. When she went to look at the picture, she whined high in her throat. “Scott, your eyes are flaring up again!”

“You didn't warn me!” He cried, “Give me a little notice next time.” He said with a smile, kissing his mother’s cheek as they passed her.

“Yeah, Melissa, come on. I think my mouth was open for that one!” Stiles added.

“Yeah, yeah, blame me for trying to get some nice pictures of my boys at their first ever prom.” She quipped, wringing the boys’ necks playfully before following them towards the living room.

As soon as they entered the room, Elizabeth was sure to look for Derek. She saw him holding Jackson’s phone and taking pictures of him and Lydia in front of the McCall’s fireplace. The whole room was in a similar state, couples and groups posing while excited parents and friends snapped pictures and cried ‘Oh that was a good one!’ or ‘Oh wait, my thumb was in that one!’ As soon as Derek turned and saw Stiles, though, Elizabeth knew it was lights out on him being able to do anything more than gape like a fish out of water.

“Hey, Derek? Derek! Derek!” Jackson cried, snatching his phone from Derek’s hand and shaking him from his Stiles induced stupor. “Jeez, man, pay attention.”

Lydia and Elizabeth made eye contact and smirked.

“I think he saw you, Stiles.” Elizabeth muttered into Stiles ear as she joined him at his side.

“No way, what did he do?” Stiles asked, getting so close to Elizabeth that she could practically taste the ten Tic-Tacs he’d downed before this event.

“Other than slip into a small coma? Not much…but the night is young.” She said deviously, and Stiles laughed, wrapping an arm around her and calling for someone to take a picture.

Elizabeth, being the good friend she is, jumped at the chance. “Oh, Derek! Derek, you’re not doing anything over there are you?” She called across the room, even though Lydia’s mother and Boyd were standing much closer with nothing much else to do. “Can you take Stiles’s phone and get a picture of us?”

“I’m going to end your life, Elizabeth, do you hear me? End it.” Stiles whispered harshly in her ear as Derek began to make his way over to them. 

He’d dressed up as much as Derek Hale possibly could without causing a small panic, opting for an olive green sweater over a white dress shirt and a black tie. He even wore nice jeans, and by nice, Elizabeth meant the only pair of jeans he owned with no holes in them. Stiles had noticed, if the tightening grip around her shoulders was anything to go on.

“You look beautiful, Zab.” Derek said, and he managed to only sound slightly surprised.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Der.” She replied, and she nudged Stiles in the ribs to make sure she had his attention. “Doesn’t he look nice, Stiles?”

The pressure around her shoulders became crushing, and she attempted to disguise her wince as a smile. Stiles looked between her and Derek while his blush bled across his cheeks at an alarming rate. “I—uh, I mean yeah, yeah! Obviously, but uh, he um, always…usually…does. So. It’s not that special, or anything. Not that it’s not nice! Because you look better than usual, believe me, it’s just that uh, you usually…look, y’know…um…”

If it was possible to die of second hand embarrassment, Stiles would be dateless once again.

“Pictures!” She cried, effectively putting an end to Stiles’s misery. “C’mon Derek, show me that you’re not a total caveman and can properly operate a phone from this decade.”

Derek snorted and took Stiles’s phone from him. Elizabeth noticed the way their fingers brushed together, and the way that the tips of Derek’s ears were so red that they were about the same shade as Stiles’s tux.

Idiots, the both of them.

Elizabeth pulled Stiles in by the hips and wound her arms about him in a crushing hug and Derek snapped the picture. He was handing the phone back to Stiles when Peter appeared at his side with a glass of white wine in his hand. 

Great, that’s what this party needs: Peter and a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” He slurred, leaning heavily on Derek and letting some of the wine slosh from his glass. He took a moment to pout at the floor and mourn the loss of those precious sips before slapping a wide grin back on his face. Even he’d had the decency to dress up, donning a crisp black button up tucked into a pair of khakis. “Lizzy, my dear, you look ravishing.”

Elizabeth nodded her thanks, “You too, Peter.”

Peter pretended not to be flattered, but she knew that was just the wine. He thrived on compliments to his appearance, always had. “And you!” He said loudly, pointing to Stiles, “You look…” He waved his hand about in the air, eyes widening as he struggled to find the right word. “Fuck, Stilinski, you’re practically unrecognizable.”

Good ol’ Peter. You could always count on him to deliver a back handed compliment.

Stiles rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “Thanks, I guess…”

“If no one takes you home tonight, you know where I’ll be.” He said suggestively, winking in Stiles direction and sloshing more of his wine to the floor. “But never mind that, for now. I came over because I want to get a picture of my dashing nephew and his favorite delinquents. I think I’ll put in on the fridge next to Derek’s finger paintings!” He gestured toward Stiles’s phone, which Stiles reluctantly gave him.

Derek made an attempt at refusal, but Elizabeth yanked him to her side with an impressive show of strength. She wound her arms around both of their waists and smiled, waiting until the flash had gone off to rip herself from their sides and rush forward to take the camera.

“Now you two! Come on, I want a picture of my boys to bring back home, or else they’ll never believe I’m friends with such good looking men!” Elizabeth cried, and Peter wandered off to spill his wine elsewhere.

Stiles and Derek pointed to each other, and Elizabeth nodded at them like the petulant children they were. “Come on, get cozy! Derek, keep those eyes down, I want a nice one! Look like you like each other!”

After receiving twin glares from the both of them, they awkwardly shuffled closer to each other until their sides were touching, and Derek tentatively wrapped his arm around Stiles’s waist, and Stiles mustered up the confidence to throw an arm across the span of Derek’s shoulders. Stiles was smiling wide and earnest, but Derek was tight lipped and overthinking.

“C’mon Derek, I wanna see teeth!”

“Keep telling me what to do and you’ll see fangs.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, “’Bout as scary as the Tooth Fairy, Derek.”

And Derek laughed a little, and Stiles was laughing, too, and Elizabeth took the picture and patted herself on the back for capturing the moment.

“Derek, Stiles, Zab, get over here! We want pictures!” Scott called, and the three wove through the crowd. 

Elizabeth was blinking stars out of her eyes for the next hour as flash after flash went off in front of her. They did girl shots, guy shots, couples shots, serious shots, goofy shots, and Elizabeth’s personal favorite: The Original Pack Shot.

“Original Pack, who the hell’s in that?” Derek asked from behind the camera that Mrs. McCall handed him while she set out more cheese and crackers.

“You, dumbass, get over here!” Scott shouted, gesturing for Derek to get in the picture. It was Scott’s idea in the first place, and he also herded in Jackson, Stiles, and Lydia. Derek once again attempted to talk his way out of it, but Stiles was making grabby hands at him, and he’d be damned if he could turn down a refusal like that.

Elizabeth grabbed the camera from him and turned to aim it at the assembling group whom were shuffling around trying to figure out what they wanted to do. Elizabeth was just setting the focus when Stiles slipped on one of Peter’s wine puddles, dropping suddenly between Scott and Derek. Both Derek and Scott grabbed onto his upper arms and caught him before he could hit the ground, but Jackson and Lydia were already howling with laughter, choking on the words ‘Classic Stilinski’ as they heaved breathlessly. Even Derek and Scott began to laugh to the point that they were struggling to hold Stiles up as he tried to find his footing again. And then Stiles was laughing, and in that moment, Elizabeth saw the boy from before the Nogitsune: the boy with the bright eyes and wild laugh that lit the room around him. She quickly snapped the picture before they could regain their composure and smiled fondly.

“Alright, alright, guys come on. We need this one and a full pack one, and then you’re free to get the Hell out of my house!” Melissa said as she came in carrying the plate of snacks she’d left to fill. As she passed, Scott plucked a pig in a blanket from the tray and stuffed it in his face. Mrs. McCall scoffed at him and reprimanded him for his manners. Elizabeth snapped another picture of Scott with a cheek full of food and his mother’s finger in his face.

“Okay, alright, serious picture, I get it!” Scott said, and the pack huddled together and smiled brightly, and even Jackson managed to look positively over the moon to be included in the group…in their little family.

“Nice one guys!” Lydia’s mother called.

“Pack picture, pack picture!” Erica cried, and by the way she wobbled slightly on her heels, Elizabeth guessed that she, too, had somehow managed to get into the wine behind the back of every adult in the room.

And so they all swarmed in front of the fire place. Elizabeth jumped on Derek’s back and wound her arms around his neck, peeking out happily over his shoulder and ignoring the way he glared at her the way a brother would his annoying little sister. Stiles was pushed closer to their side by Scott, who was making room for Isaac at his side because Isaac was being a child and refused to stand anywhere else even though he was the tallest. Erica and Boyd slid in next to Jackson and Lydia, and Kira snuck in to stand in front of Scott, who wound his hands around her small waist. After a quick reminder of ‘Keep those eyes in check, people!’, the picture was taken and they were all rushing to leave the house to get into their respective cars.

Derek gripped her around the forearm before she could get too far from him. He pulled Elizabeth close, growling in her ear low enough that the other wolves probably couldn’t hear them over the commotion. “Keep him safe.”

“He can keep himself safe, Der. Don’t you worry.”

“If anyone who isn’t you touches him, snap ‘em in half.”

“Green monster, Derek, green monster.” She warned, waggling her finger at him and getting a scoff in return. She punched him in the shoulder and turned to leave.

Elizabeth thought Stiles was nearby, but when she turned to gloat that clearly it went well, he was gone. She craned her neck over the remaining guests and saw Stiles lingering with Derek by the fireplace. Stiles’s entire face was red, and the back of Derek’s neck looked about the same, and then Stiles was nodding and awkwardly walking away, turning back to look at Derek every couple of seconds before throwing a “See you later!” over his shoulder.

“What was that about?” Elizabeth asked as soon as they were far enough away.

“He just wanted to tell me I looked good, too. It’s nothing.” Stiles said, but the wide smile on his face told a different story.

Elizabeth wanted to hit him with a frying pan.

“I don’t know Stiles, you look incredible, and I think he noticed. Derek notices a lot of things, you know…” She said vaguely, though what she wanted to say was ‘Derek notices when your shoelaces are tied differently than they were two months ago’, but she didn't, because it was up to these two dumbasses to figure it out themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALRIGHT so here's a whole bunch of happy fluffiness because it's going to go downhill hard for a bit after this BUT IT WILL ALL BE OKAY I'M IN TOTAL CONTROL OF THE SITUATION. 
> 
> And if you want a little look at what's ahead for Derek and Stiles, you can find the inpiration [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8e2tKMsWI0k), just, y'know...without the baby...
> 
> OKAY so anyway I'd like to thank everyone again for sticking with this and enjoying it as much as I am!! Thank you for all your comments and support!


	18. Let Her Out

When Stiles walked under the arches of balloons that stood at the entrance to the gymnasium it was as if the past year of heartache and emotional upheaval disappeared. He was so carefree that he forgot, for a moment, that the gym still faintly smelled of sweat or that the person he wanted here most wasn't.

He felt Elizabeth practically vibrating with excitement as they followed their friends toward an empty table. In the dim lights he could make out a faint white glow all around her body and he hoped that anyone looking at her would just think it was a trick of the light.

As their dinners arrived at the table Stiles found himself struggling to remember the days when he’d be dry heaving over breakfast. The terrible memories of the Nogitsune were so tightly locked away that their presence in his mind only told him one thing: He survived. 

He and all the people surrounding him were survivors.

These were, for better or for worse, the people he cared about most. Over the course of these turbulent months Stiles had found himself a family larger than any he’d known before. Hell, he considered Jackson Whittemore family now, and if that wasn't indicative of how much had changed in his life since the night before sophomore year started, he didn't know what was.

He felt an elbow nudge his shoulder and turned to face Scott, who was looking at him with a curious glance. “What are you thinking about, man?” He asked.

Stiles just grinned. “How happy I am.”

Scott’s returning grin obviously put his own to shame, but that’s because Scott kept the sun inside of himself at all time. Stiles assumed he ate sunlight for breakfast. With no milk.

“Hey, listen! Not to interrupt the moment here, but if you don’t vote me and Jackson for prom court you will never know happiness ever again.” Lydia hissed across the table.  
Stiles just rolled his eyes and complied with her demands.

The night practically flew by in a haze of strobe lights and streamers and terrible, terrible dancing. Stiles couldn’t remember having as much fun as he was having now. To Elizabeth’s surprise about halfway through the dance Stiles allowed himself to be pulled away by various nameless members of the junior class and grinded on within an inch of his life. When he’d return with his hair mussed and face flushed, Elizabeth would eye him skeptically. After the third time this happened and he came back with slick, puffy lips, Elizabeth couldn't help but ask.

“What? He got to have his fun. Now I’m having mine.” Stiles explained.

For a moment Stiles thought Elizabeth was going to curse him into the next life, but instead she burst out laughing and pulled him into a hug.

While they were still embraced the song changed and Stiles recognized it as one of Allison’s favorites. He smiled with a small pang in his heart, thinking of how much he wished she could have been here. He said as much to Elizabeth as he clutched her tighter.

“Stiles…” She said softly, moving her hand so that it rested on his forearm. “She’s here. She’s here so long as you want her to be.” Her hand illuminated and Stiles felt, with great relief, what seemed like the last of his guilt draining from his body. In its place he felt a sense of duty to himself and to Allison to cherish her memory as it was, not tainted with guilt and longing and sorrow. 

Stiles grinned so wide his cheeks hurt as he buried his face in Elizabeth’s neck and let out a few tears. He’d never really understood the concept of happy tears until that very moment. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Does this mean you have to go back? To Louisiana?”

The thought that after all of this, after all she’d done for him, Elizabeth would just turn away and leave as if nothing had happened nearly broke Stiles’s heart all over again. Somewhere between the time she’d burst into Derek’s loft telling him he was a wizard and this very moment, Elizabeth had branded herself on Stiles in a way that he couldn't have predicted when Derek had first spoken of her.

Elizabeth pulled away and gently nudged Stiles’s face toward her own. “Stiles, you’re strong enough now. You can do this without me.”

Stiles shrugged. “I don’t need you for the magic, Liz. You’re more than that now.” Stiles swallowed thickly. “You’re family.”

Elizabeth looked as though she could burst from happiness. Her smile wrinkled her face and made her cheeks flush while her eyes brimmed with tears as well. “Family?” She asked excitedly.

“Family.” He confirmed. “As in, you are like the older sister I never had and never wanted. I full intend to keep you around. Mostly to complain about my love life.”

Elizabeth smirked. “You mean your Derek Problems.”

Stiles shrugged. “I figure you’re an expert on the subject.”

Elizabeth chuckled, blinking back tears from her eyes. “I know a thing or two.”

“So will you stay? Please, Elizabeth, say you’re gonna stay here. Say you’ll stay in this supernatural wasteland of a town and fight monsters and coach me through the wooing of Derek Hale.”

Elizabeth laughed again before nodding. “I’ll stay.”

Stiles felt like he could burst with pure happiness. He pulled Elizabeth in for another tight hug and picked her up off her feet to shake her around.

When they pulled apart from each other they turned to see Isaac hovering by their side, looking absolutely terrified as his eyes darted between Elizabeth and Stiles. “I can come back, if you guys…”

“No, man, no!” Stiles said graciously. “She’s all yours, my friend.” He took Elizabeth’s hand and offered it to Isaac, grinning devilishly at the pair as they wove off to get deeper into the dance floor.

Naturally the next song was a slow jam, and Stiles was ready to head for the table when Scott appeared at his side and threw his arms around him and began swaying on the spot. In response to Stiles’s incredulous look he just pulled a face and shrugged. “Kira’s in the bathroom. It was you or Danny, and I have a feeling in Finstock caught me dancing with him again, he’s gonna get ideas.”

Stiles laughed and looked over to where Finstock was mowing down the cupcake supply in his red tracksuit, watching the students like a hawk to make sure they maintained a foot’s distance between their bodies at all times. He’d look formidable if it weren't for the cake stuck to the corners of his mouth.

“So you chose me? I feel so loved. I was voted third best dance partner by Scott McCall!” Stiles said, mock swooning and batting his eye lashes. He put his hands on Scott’s hips and swayed with him.

Scott just chucked. “Shut up, you only dragged Elizabeth here because you were too chicken to ask Derek, and now Isaac has Elizabeth, so I’m third best, too.” He said smartly.

Stiles gawked at him, freezing their awkward circular shuffled on the spot. “You knew?”

“That you were harboring the biggest crush on Derek Hale that Beacon Hills had ever seen? Uh…yeah!” Scott said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“This coming from a kid who took twenty minutes and a drink from a guy at the bar to realize we were in a gay club.” Stiles fired back.

Scott just shook his head. “Forgive me for not being tuned in to the gay community!”

“You know, I don’t think I will.” Stiles said.

Scott rolled his eyes. “Stiles, you’re my best friend. I watched you trail after Lydia like a lost puppy since the third grade. You didn't think I’d notice when my lost puppy went and found someone else to chase after?”

“Your extended metaphor is completely off base and I loathe you for using it but, fine, I get it. My attraction to Derek was the worst kept secret in all of Beacon Hills. Why didn't you say anything?” Stiles asked.

Scott shrugged. “Your business, dude. Not mine. I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”

Stiles just smiled as the song wound down. He clapped Scott on the back and pulled him in for a tight hug. “I’m glad I've still got you Scott.” He said earnestly.

Scott pulled back with one of his dopey grins on his face. “You had me before, dumbass.” He said, and Stiles was reminded of when he’d said the same thing all those months ago.

Stiles laughed and turned his face away from Scott for a moment to look for his friends. Instead his attention was caught by Isaac’s face looking confused and concerned from where he could see it above the heads of all the other students. Before Stiles could comment, Isaac was pushing toward him and Scott with the same expression held on his face.  
“What is it?” Stiles asked when he was close enough.

“Elizabeth. I think she saw something. She told me to stay here and then disappeared right there on the spot.” He said.

Stiles bit back a laugh. “Maybe you just suck at dancing.”

Isaac glared at him. “Not funny.”

“It’s a thought.” Stiles quipped.

“Did she say where she was going?” Scott asked, and Stiles could tell he was going into Alpha mode.

“No. She just told me to stay in here and enjoy the night, and that she’d take care of it.” Isaac explained.

Stiles and Scott glanced at each other, and Stiles could tell that Scott was debating whether or not to listen to Elizabeth’s warning.

“If it’s Veneficus…” Scott began.

“We haven’t heard from him in months.” Stiles said.

“Yeah, but what if it’s him! Elizabeth can’t take him alone, she said so.” Scott said.

Stiles gripped him by the shoulders. “Look, buddy. If Elizabeth said she can handle it, she can handle it. She’s a big girl. If she needed help, she’d have asked.” He said firmly. “Now go find your girlfriend and dance with her. This is the best night of our lives, Scott. Live in the moment!” He said, pushing Scott toward the dance floor.

Scott hesitated for a moment before nodding, and Stiles watched him like a hawk to make sure that he found his way to Kira.

“Did you mean what you said?” Isaac asked.

Stiles gave a blasé wave of his hand. “Of course I did! Psh, you probably just stepped on her foot or something and she went to have a good cry in the bathroom. She’ll be back.”  
Isaac pointed at him harshly. “I did not step on her foot!” He paused as he mulled over the statement. “Okay, maybe once. But I was nervous and she was wearing combat boots. She was fine!”

Stiles just laughed a patted him on the back. “Sure buddy, I bet she was. Now how about you go dance with your own date. What’s her name, there, uh…The new girl, right?”  
“Malia.” Isaac said blandly. “But Elizabeth—.”

“Will be fine and probably forgive you for breaking all of her toes with your gargantuan foot. Now go dance!” Stiles said, shoving Isaac toward the writhing bodies on the floor as well.

As for himself, he was going to see if he couldn't find that kid from his math class again…the one with the impressive stubble for someone who hadn't yet hit the twelfth grade.

***

“Jesus Christ, answer your goddamn phone!” Elizabeth hissed in a whispered voice from where she sat in the women’s bathroom. She knew that gendered washrooms probably held no significance to an ancient sorcerer, but she could hope that he’d respect custom and stay the hell out long enough to get Derek on the phone.

She’s seen him looming in the shadows while she was dancing with Isaac. From over his shoulder she’d caught sight of glinting silver and upon further inspection noticed that it was the silver handle of a cane clasped lightly in a leather-clad hand. With muted horror she’d watched him creep stealthily from the darkness and nod toward the door, clearly gesturing for her to come with him.

She’d shaken her head and clung tighter to Isaac’s body in fear. She knew she couldn't face him alone, but to ask the pack to leave their one and only prom was too much to ask.  
Veneficus had shrugged and loomed over to the nearby punch bowl. He dipped the handle of his cane in and Elizabeth watched with terror as it turned a murky black color before reverting back to its original vibrant red. Veneficus had held a finger to his mouth with a haunting smirk and turned to leave. While at the door he looked over his shoulder and tilted his head one more time in invitation.

Elizabeth immediately pulled away from Isaac and hurriedly explained to him that she had to go, not to follow her, and to stay in the gym no matter what happened: If this was about to get ugly, she wanted no collateral damage.

Isaac had protested at first but eventually let her go. She flitted over to the drinks table in a blink of the eye and had rudely slapped a cup of punch out of Finstock’s hand before he could take a sip of the tainted drink. Before he could reprimand her, she gripped the glass tub of punch and tipped the whole thing on its side, watching as it splashed over the hardwood floor and sizzled menacingly as it wore away the shiny wax and paint.

Finstock’s mouth eventually managed to snap shut after his initial shock and he thanked Elizabeth, but then in the same sentence he asked how the hell he was supposed to explain that to the school board.

With a shrug and a fleeting goodbye, Elizabeth ran from the gymnasium and found herself standing alone in the dimly lit halls.

Thinking of the fight ahead, she sloppily scorched the ends of her dress until it fell to mid-thigh. She took a moment to wonder what Lydia would say before she focused on the more important task at hand: Finding the mass murdering sorcerer playing hide-and-go-seek in the high school.

“Veneficus?” She asked into the silence, spinning around to look behind her, then turning back to continue walking slowly down the hall. She looked inside of every classroom in search of him, or any sign of where he’d disappeared to. “I’m right where to want me. Don’t be afraid.” She taunted, flexing her fingers and feeling the energy coursing through them. 

The lockers in the hallways started rattling and she spun to see Vereficus standing under the dim light at the end of the hallway with his hands folded over his cane placed in front of him. He was smiling softly beneath the wide brim of his hat. “I’m not afraid.” He drawled.

Elizabeth’s fists clenched as they began glowing with white light. “Not yet.”

He laughed derisively. “That’s precious.” He tapped he cane gently against the floor and a massive crack made its way quickly down the hall, spintering the floor in half and sending massive chunks of the school’s foundation plummeting into the darkness. Elizabeth lept out of the way just before the darkness could claim her as well, and while off balance she attempted to fling Vereficus through the window he was standing in front of, but he was already gone.

He reappeared at the other end of the hall, Elizabeth caught in the middle, and with a wave of his arm the lockers burst into flame and Elizabeth had to jerk aside so as to keep herself from burning. She sprinted along the gaping crack in the floor, heading for the open lobby.

She’d only just turned the corner into the new hallway when Veneficus’s cane swung out and caught her across the face. She hit the ground with a howl of pain and attempted to crawl as far from him as possible while clutching her bleeding nose.

“Elizabeth, come on now, this is pathetic.” Veneficus taunted, trailing a few steps behind her at all times. “I expected more from you. All that rage you've got inside. What do I have to do to see that side of you, hm?” He continued.

Elizabeth continued crawling, feebly waving a hand behind her and tossing curses and hexes in his general direction. He batted them away like he was swatting flies.

“Do I have to kill your friends?” He asked. “Is that how to bring it out of you? Do I have to stoop that low to fight The White Witch?” With a wide sweep of his cane he sent Elizabeth’s body hurdling into the lockers to his right, her body creating a loud, metallic thud that echoed through the empty halls. 

Elizabeth collapsed to the ground and fought the burning rage inside of her. Her eyes were flashing dangerously between green and white, but she pulled it back. If the White Witch took over, she would no longer be in control of her body or her magic. She would take down the entire school if it meant defeating Veneficus with no thought spared toward the five hundred bodies packed into the gymnasium. 

But Veneficus was relentless. “COME ON!” He roared, his cane slashing through the air and putting a gash across Elizabeth’s upper thigh. “LET HER OUT!” He cried as he slashed the air again, this time cutting deep into Elizabeth’s shoulder.

She was howling in pain, her body jerking as it fought against the power curling inside of her body. Every atom of her being was telling her to fight, but there would be no stopping her once she started.

“LET HER OUT!” He screamed again, this time sending her body slamming into the hard concrete of the opposite wall. He continued tossing her from wall to wall, each hit followed by his manic demands.

“ _LET HER OUT!_ ”

Crash.

“ _LET HER OUT!_ ”

Crash.

“ _ **LET!**_ **”**

**Crash.**

**“ _ **HER.**_ ”**

**Crash.**

**“ _ **OUT.**_** ”

Elizabeth hit the ground and quickly lifted her upper body off the floor, kneeling in front of him with bright, ghostly eyes shining through the pieces of her hair that had fallen from their bun. Her breath was ragged as she raised her arms above her and snarled. “ _NO!_ ” She shouted back, and she brought her hands down quickly and balled them into fists, pounding the ground and up-ending the multicolored tiles that were lain there. With them came the concrete, and Veneficus was thrown off balance as the ground beneath him began to rumble and shatter.

“That’s a girl!” He called even as he struggled to find his footing. “Let it all out!”

Elizabeth quickly stood and threw her open palms toward the two classroom doors to the left and right of Veneficus. When her fists clenched shut the teacher’s desks from both rooms broke down the doors and flew towards one another, moving to crush Veneficus between their weights.

With a snap of his fingers, the desks splintered into a thousand wooden pieces which hung uselessly in the air, suspended in time. With a quirk of his eyebrow and a wave of his hand, the splinters turned on Elizabeth and hailed down on her like daggers.

She transmuted out of the hall and into the bathroom on the other side of the school just before a dagger pierced her skull.

With shaking hands she pulled her phone from where it was tucked into her dress. It took a few tries to correctly type out Derek’s number, but once she got it right she waited through the rings with a hammering heart.

And that’s where she was now, listening to the droning ring of Derek’s phone and begging for him to pick up.

Finally the ringing stopped. “Please don’t tell me someone’s puking already.” He asked sarcastically.

“Veneficus is at the school.”

She heard Derek running towards the door and then slamming it shut. “I’m on my way.”

“Hurry, Derek. I’m fighting him alone.” She said quickly before hanging up and taking steadying breaths. Her head thumped against the wall as she closed her eyes and tried to regain control of herself.

Her eyes slid back open slowly as one by one the sinks began running. She turned to look at them with confusion and noticed that the wall she was leaning on was giving an ominous vibration accompanied by the moaning sound that pipes made when under distress.

She realized what was happening the moment before the pipes burst and the room was quickly flooding with water.

She leapt to her feet and pushed the door open only to find Veneficus standing there patiently with a smile on his face. “Ready for round two?”

Elizabeth fought him tooth and nail for what felt like hours. In all corners of the school they battled. If you were looking in on Beacon Hills High, you’d see bursts of white light radiating through the windows one minute, and all-consuming darkness flooding the same windows the next. 

Elizabeth was staggering through the freshman hallway when Derek nearly bowled her over as he turned a corner.

“Where is everyone?” Derek asked, grabbing Elizabeth firmly by the shoulders and inspecting her worn out appearance.

After taking a deep breath she pointed vaguely toward the gymnasium. “Still inside. I told Isaac to make them stay.”

“Stiles, Elizabeth, where’s Stiles?” He asked, growing more panicked by the second.

Elizabeth took a moment to be offended. “Jeez, Derek, I’m fine. Thanks for asking. I've only been fighting the most notorious dark sorcerer in the world singlehandedly for the past half hour, but there’s no need to check on me.”

Derek continued to stare at her.

“Jesus Christ, Derek. He’s still in the gym, too. Everyone’s in the gym.” She said exasperatedly. 

“I’m going to get them and move them out. We’re going back to the loft. You think you can hold him off until then?” Derek asked quickly.

She nodded and steeled herself once again. “I’ve been doin’ alright so far.”

Derek gave her a once over. “You look like hell…”

“I said I was doing alright, I didn't say I was winning.” She said. “Go get ‘em. I can handle him.”

Derek nodded and sprinted off down the hall while she turned to call out to Veneficus once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is almost done omg this is so bizarre.
> 
> Another four or five chapters so go-depending how I split it.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone keeping up with this story and those of you who are leaving comments and nice words and criticisms are so appreciated!! You've made this so much fun and I'm so sad it's ending!!


	19. Evacuation Plan

Derek nearly tore the door off of its hinges with the force at which he yanked it. His nose was assaulted with the smell of arousal, sweat, and way, way, way too much freaking cologne. His face twisted in disgust as he searched the crowd for any sign of a familiar face.

The first one he found may not have been pack, but he knew Jackson, and that was at least some place to start. Derek ambled up to him and gripped his shoulder. When he had his attention, he shouted over the sound of the pounding music. “You seen Jackson around anywhere?”

Danny nodded his head. “Yeah, last I saw him he’d just come off the stage.” He said, pointing toward the stage with the banner reading ‘KING AND QUEEN’ hung over it. “Haven’t seen him since though.” He said with a shrug.

Derek rolled his eyes. Well, that was unhelpful.

Before he could leave, Danny slapped him lightly on the chest with the back of his hand. “What’re you doing here, anyway? Aren’t you Stiles’s cousin?”

Derek walked away without answering.

He stalked through the crowd for another five minutes before happening across Erica and Boyd in the midst of a kiss that was probably veering well over the edge of what was acceptable at a school dance. Derek coughed loudly as means of getting their attention.

“Fuck off Finstock.” Boyd said without opening his eyes.

“No thanks.” Derek responded briskly. Boyd and Erica pulled apart at the sound of his voice.

“The Hell are you doing here?” Erica asked.

“Elizabeth called me. Veneficus is here.” Derek said quickly.

Both of their eyes widened. “Here? At the school?” Boyd clarified.

Derek nodded gravely. “Where are the others?”

Erica and Boyd each started pointing in different directions, listing off different pack members and who they were last seen with and what song was playing when they saw them last…It was all making Derek’s head spin, so he cut them off with a wave of his hand.

“We’ll spit up and get everyone together. We’ve got to go.” Derek said firmly.

“Where’s Elizabeth?” Erica asked.

As if on cue a resounding crash on the roof drew everyone’s attention temporarily away from the hypnotic thrum of the music. The students eventually let it go and marked it down as some freak building malfunction and kept on dancing. Derek knew better.

“We’ve got to move. She can’t hold him off on her own.” He said as his nerves began to get the better of him. “Where’s Stiles?” He asked urgently.

Erica’s smirk was maddening. “Why, you gonna try to squeeze in a dance before we kick some dark wizard ass?” She teased.

Derek glared at her. “Where?”

She rolled her eyes. “Last I saw he was dancing with some guy in the middle of the floor. It was getting pretty steamy though. They might have taken it outside.” She said with a devious tick of her eyebrow.

Derek stalked off into the thick mass of bodies grinding in the middle of the gym, ordering Boyd and Erica to round up the rest of the pack.

He tried to catch Stiles’s scent, but among all the other bodies it was lost. Derek scanned the crowd carefully, ignoring the questioning glances he got from high schoolers wondering what the hell a grown man in a black v-neck was doing at their prom.

Just when Derek was about to give up and send Erica and Boyd to look for him as well he caught sight of a flash of red. Honing in on it, he pushed a few bodies aside and was met with the sight of Stiles…

…dancing with someone else, if that’s what you’d call this hideous display of inept teenage groping. Derek felt the blood pulsing in his ears as he watched Stiles’s dance partner slide his hands from Stiles’s shoulder blades to his ass, squeezing the soft flesh he found there and dragging Stiles’s hips to meet his in a sloppy, unpracticed roll.

Stiles, for his part, looked to be positively glowing under the attention. His forehead was pressed against the other boy’s and his tongue was running over his swollen bottom lip as he held eye contact and wound his hands through the boy’s dark tresses.

He thought he’d only growled internally, but when Stiles turned to him with wide eyes he knew that wasn't the case. The boy made dead eye contact with him before grinning impishly and twisting in his partner’s arms so he could press his back against his chest and watch Derek has he rolled his hips back to meet the boy’s steady thrusts. Stiles’s hands were still wound in the boy’s raven hair, but now he held eye contact with Derek as he bit and licked at his swollen lips.

Stiles’s eyes slid shut as he grinded back into a particularly smooth thrust and Derek could have sworn he saw red in more than just Stiles’s tux. Finally snapping out of his stupor he reached forward and jerked Stiles away from the stunned and slightly pissed off boy before dragging him through the crowd toward the doors.

“Dude, what gives?” Stiles asked.

Derek didn't dignify that with an answer.

“Derek, I’m serious. Why are you here?” Stiles asked again, pulling against Derek’s hold.

Derek remained silent.

“Derek!” Stiles cried as he ripped his hand from his grasp. “What the hell’s going on?”

“Veneficus, Stiles. He’s here!” Derek shouted. “He’s here and while you were over there doing—…” Derek struggled to find a word to describe exactly what Stiles and that boy had been doing. “Y’know…that…” He finished lamely, earning himself a disbelieving look from Stiles. “…Elizabeth has been busting her ass fighting him off so you wouldn’t have to!”

Stiles looked stupefied. “She told us to stay in here! She said it was nothing!”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Of course she did, Stiles. Since when do you ever do as you’re told?”

Stiles was about to answer when the rest of the pack converged on them. Scott was immediately as Derek’s side. “Where’s Elizabeth right now.”

“Last I heard: the roof.” Derek said.

Scott threw a fleeting glance to the ceiling before shaking his head. “Alright, we've got to get to the cars and head back to the loft to talk strategy. We need a plan if we want to stand a chance against this thing.”

“The parking lot is on the other side of the school, Scott.” Lydia pointed out.

“We’ll use the shortcut through the boy’s locker room.” Scott replied. “We’re gonna need to move fast.”

But they couldn't move fast enough. With a deafening bang Elizabeth’s body flew through the double doors of the gym, taking the balloon arches with her as she tumbled across the hard wood floor. The swarm of students parted around her until she finally slid to a halt.

Then all hell broke loose. 

Students were running every which way as the pack struggled to stay together in the rip tide of bodies. Several times Lydia or Kira were nearly dragged away before another member of the pack was able to drag them back to the group.

“We’ve got to go, now!” Scott shouted over the chaos.

“How are we gonna do that? They’re swarming the exits, Scott!” Derek cried, gesturing to the bottle neck stampedes that were occurring at every exit.

“We need to get to Elizabeth.” Stiles said firmly, trying to catch sight of her among the swarming bodies.

The pack agreed and moved as a collective through the crowd, pushing and fighting their way to where Elizabeth had crash landed moments ago. They found her still struggling to get up. The floor beneath her was splintered from her hard collision.

Derek gripped her tight around her forearms and lifted her to her feet. “Elizabeth, what happened?”

She struggled to lift her head as if it weighed a ton. “He’s strong, Derek. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

Derek nodded sympathetically and turned back to the group. “We’d better make this fast. We need to get these kids out of here.”

“How? It’s not like we can just blow down the wall.” Erica said.

Derek could almost see the light bulb go off in Elizabeth’s head. “Get those kids away from the wall that leads outside, I’m taking it down.” She ordered, rolling her shoulders to relieve the tension.

“Excuse me? You’re gonna do what?” Jackson cried. “This is our school! You can’t just tear down a freaking wall!”

Elizabeth turned and glared at him. “Either the wall goes, or we all die. It’s a toss-up, really. The choice was so conflicting I had to ponder it for a whole second before deciding.” She turned to Scott. “You’ve got to Alpha them.”

“They’re not pack, though, Elizabeth. They’re not even wolves!” Scott said.

“Something tells me that if one of their classmates’ eyes start glowing red and they tell them to do something, they’re gonna do it.” Elizabeth replied.

Scott did as he was told, and just as Elizabeth had said, fear proved to be a valuable tool against a mass of clueless teenagers. They scrambled back to the far wall of the gym as Elizabeth trudged determinedly forward.

“You sure you’ve got enough in the tank, Zab?” Derek called after her.

“We’re about to find out!” was her unsettling response. She raised her arms above her head and her hands emitted their ivory glow. When she quickly brought her hands back down to her sides in clenched fists, the wall came down with them. The cement crumbled and toppled atop the bleachers, crushing them beneath its weight. The entire foundation came tumbling downward, leaving nothing to impede the swelling rush of teenagers that were headed towards the parking lot.

“You don’t think this is what he wanted, do you?” Derek asked as he watched the masses of panicked teenagers all moving in the same direction. “You don’t think this is why he threw you in here in the first place?”

Elizabeth turned to face him from where she stood in the middle of the gym. “How the hell should I know?” She cried breathlessly, her chest heaving as she clasped it in an effort to remain standing.

“Come on!” Scott said as he clapped Derek on the shoulder while running past him. “We’ve got to get to the cars before everyone else or we’ll never get out of here!”

The pack took off running with him; Isaac stopping to pick Elizabeth’s weakened body up and tossing it over his shoulders, much to her indignation. She spent half the sprint to their cars slapping Isaac’s back and yelling that she was a five hundred year old witch, not a damsel in distress, which Isaac only seemed to find endearing. 

She picked her head up long enough to look behind them and realize that Veneficus was standing among the chaos maintaining a fearsome stillness that didn't break even as students ran wild around him. The satisfied smirk on his pale lips caused a chill to run down Elizabeth’s spine.

“He’s here!” She alerted the group. “He’s here, Derek, you were right. This is what he wants.”

“How are we supposed to protect everyone?” Scott asked in a panic, looking around at the hundreds of kids running every which way.

“You don’t.” Elizabeth said darkly, twisting out of Isaac’s grip and pushing him aside. “You contain the problem.” 

“What are you doing?” Derek asked, fearing just how much more wear and tear the girl could take.

“Containing the problem.” She said simply, holding her arms out once against despite the fact that her muscles were shaking from exertion.

“Elizabeth, don’t!” Derek warned, but Elizabeth was already forming a cloudy wall of white light between themselves and Veneficus, who made no move to run or change position or do much of anything at all as the wall closed around him and became a dome of energy. 

“I don’t know how long I can hold this.” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. “Get out of here, now!” 

The rest of the pack turned to leave immediately, but Derek hung back and took a couple of tentative steps toward Elizabeth. “Zab, come on. You've done enough.”

“No one’s gonna die tonight, Derek. Not again.” She said harshly as she strengthened the power of her shield. Veneficus had begun firing off blasts of shadowy magic in an attempt to break down the barrier.

Derek hesitated for a few more moments before turning to follow the pack. 

As their convoy of The Camaro, The Jeep, The Porsche, and the motorbike all peeled away from the school they watched as Elizabeth’s shield flickered in some spots before doubling in strength, only to fade on and off once again.

Derek punched the Camaro’s steering wheel in response. “She’s not strong enough. I shouldn't have let her stay by herself.”

From the passenger’s seat Stiles shook his head. “No, Derek, she told us to leave and that she could take care of it. She knows more about this than we do.” He explained logically, which for Stiles was a first.

“That doesn't mean she’s always going to be right, Stiles!” Derek cried as he bore a hard right down a side street.

“But it does mean that we wouldn't have been any help to her.” Stiles retorted. “Wolves can’t touch this guy, and he’s after the both of us. Putting us in his way puts us in danger, and Elizabeth would rather fight him alone than do that.”

Derek’s jaw twitched as he clenched down hard on his back teeth, trying hard not to scream in aggravation. “She doesn't know her limits.”

“Or maybe you don't know what she's capable of.” Stiles said.

Derek continued to worry until they reached the loft. The entire pack met up just outside of Derek’s door and paced the hall, waiting for any sign of the witch: a step on the stairs, a gust of air, anything that would let them know their friend was alright.

Finally, after another half an hour of frantic pacing, Elizabeth arrived at the loft and stumbled to her knees just after popping into existence.

“They’re safe.” She breathed out. “Everyone’s safe. I made sure everyone was gone before I left.”

Derek felt a rush of relief as he pulled Elizabeth to her feet, adamantly ignoring Stiles’s ‘ _I told you so!_ ’ look before pulling her into the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord there are probably so many mistakes in this but I couldn't be bothered with decent self editing SO
> 
> We've got...four?? three?? chapters left here and I'd once again like to thank everyone reading and commenting and enjoying this story with me.
> 
> I think everyone's really going to enjoy the rest of the story!!


	20. Make It Personal

The pack burst into the loft in one giant stampede, tripping over one another to get inside and deadbolt the door behind them. Peter strode out of the kitchen with one half of a peanut butter and fluff in his hand and a curious expression on his face.

“Back so soon?” He asked to the winded group in front of him.

“Peter, get the windows.” Derek ordered, pointing to the bay windows overlooking Beacon Hills. “Lock ‘em up.”

Peter immediately dropped the sandwich and obeyed. “Are you going to tell me why we’re going into lock down?”

“We've got trouble, what more do you need to know?” Elizabeth asked harshly.

Peter stalled for a moment as he twisted the lock on the last window. He slowly turned toward the pack and replied, “How I can help.” 

Elizabeth’s jaw fell open and she looked to Derek only to find him with a similar expression on his face.

“You can help by coming with us.” Scott said suddenly, his brown eyes bleeding crimson. “I’m taking the pack to hunt this guy down. Derek, you and Stiles stay here.”

“What?” Derek and Stiles cried in unison.

“I’m coming with you.” Stiles said adamantly.

“No, you’re not Stiles.” Elizabeth said sharply. “Scott’s right. If Veneficus gets a hold of you we’re not going to be able to kill him.” She said gravely.

“So why am I staying?” Derek asked crossly.

“Because he’s safest with you.” Scott said firmly, and the look on his face kept Derek from arguing. “I’ll take the Camaro: I want Peter, Jackson, Lydia, and Kira with me.” He said in his Alpha voice, and this time, no one was laughing. Derek didn't even hesitate to throw Scott the keys. “What are we thinking here, Jeep or Porsche?”

Stiles hesitated a moment before offering up the keys to his beloved car. Scott took them and handed them to Elizabeth.

“You’re with Boyd, Isaac, and Erica. I want that Jeep no further than a foot away from my bumper at all times, do you understand?” Scott ordered, and Elizabeth nodded her understanding quickly, the three aforementioned betas falling in behind her.

“Where are you gonna look for him?” Derek asked.

“I have a feeling he’s making this personal.” Scott said gravely. “I’m gonna check out our houses, the school, anywhere he might think we’d be emotionally drawn to.”

“Swing by the station while you’re at it, okay? Just check on my dad.” Stiles said in a strangled voice.

Scott’s eyes faded and for a moment he looked like the scared asthmatic boy with ruffled hair all over again as he pulled his best friend in for a tight hug.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.” He said firmly, and when he pulled away his eyes were a vivid red again. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Stiles nodded shakily before backing away and watching as his friends stormed out of the loft once again. Derek relocked the door and rested his forehead against the cool metal. Stiles watched as his back expanded from his deep, calming breaths.

“They’re gonna come back.” Derek said firmly, but Stiles could tell from the tension in his body that he was still worrying about Elizabeth’s condition. 

“Allison didn't.” Stiles said quietly.

Derek spun on the spot to face Stiles. “Don’t you say that.”

“Why? Because you don’t want to hear it? You don’t want to think about the fact that our pack is cursed? We lose someone every time we go out like this, Derek! Who’s it gonna be this time? Whose parents are gonna be down my throat, blaming me for this one, too?” Stiles cried, his voice breaking on every other word.

“Stiles…” Derek said softly, closing in on the boy slowly. “It’s gonna be alright.”

“What if it’s not?” He screeched. “What if they bring back Scott in a body bag, Derek? What happens if Lydia can’t defend herself? Or if Elizabeth isn't strong enough? What if our whole world falls apart again, Derek, what do we do?”

Derek thought about it for a moment. “When you’re going through hell…” He began, and looked at Stiles expectantly.

Stiles took a deep, steadying breath as he wiped the tears from his eyes. “Keep going.” He finished firmly.

“Listen to me Stiles.” Derek said, coming close enough to bracket Stiles’s face between his hands. “Scott’s not going anywhere. He’s a True Alpha, Stiles. Steel will bend before he does.” Derek thumbed away the remaining traces of tears on Stiles’s face. “Lydia Martin? Death would come for her and she’d tell him to suck it and screw because she wasn't going to die in the ripped up remains of her prom dress. You know it, too, don’t you?” Derek added as he watched Stiles laugh at the thought. “As for Elizabeth? C’mon. She’s got eight years’ worth of teasing to catch up on; she’s not going to just let that go to waste.”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Stiles whimpered.

Derek’s heart nearly shattered and the lost and confused look on the boy’s face.

“Because I care about you, Stiles.” He answered earnestly, toeing the line of just how much he was willing to admit.

Stiles pulled his bottom lip into his mouth to chew on it as he blinked away a fresh batch of tears. “Prove it.” He whispered softly.

Derek continued to swipe at the falling tears. “Anything you want, Stiles. I’d do anything you asked me to.”

Stiles’s eyes were red rimmed and tear stained when he gazed into Derek’s and searched for any misgivings. All he found was vulnerability and honesty, so he smiled and blinked away the remaining tears. “So if I asked you to come to Prom with me?”

“I’d say yes, but I wouldn't be happy about it.” Derek answered with a smirk, stepping closer into Stiles’s space.

“And if I asked you to burn anyone’s number that they try to slip you?”

“I’d say you’re jealous…” Derek teased, “And I’d carry a lighter with me at all times.”

Stiles smiled and hesitated for a moment. “And um…if I asked you to kiss me right now?”

Derek huffed though his nose and slipped the hands resting on Stiles’s cheeks to cup his chin and the back of his head. “I’d say that this was surprisingly smooth of you.” He said with a chuckle, bringing their faces close enough together that Derek could almost taste the fruit punch on Stiles’s lips.

“Well, y’know, I started rehearsing pick-up lines after Parish came along. I had to compete with him, didn't I?” Stiles asked, though his upbeat tone didn't mask the secret insecurities behind his words.

“No, you didn't.” Derek said softly before closing the distance between him and Stiles.

Kissing Stiles didn't compare or compete with any other kiss Derek had ever had. All other kisses were eradicated as Stiles rose up on his tip-toes to push his body closer to Derek’s, his arms coming around Derek’s broad shoulders to pull their bodies tight against one another. The soft lips that had taunted Derek were now his to feel pressed up against his own and he wasted no time exploring them and appreciating them the way they deserved to be.

They way all of Stiles deserved to be.

Derek pulled back from the warmth of Stiles’s mouth and slowly opened his heavily lidded eyes to meet Stiles’s. He looked to be in about the same state with a flush rising high in his cheeks. “Stiles, wait.” He said firmly when Stiles chased after Derek’s lips.

“I waited, Derek, come on. I waited long enough, come here.” Stiles pleaded softly, straining against Derek’s gentle hold on his face.

“I need to say something before this goes too far.” Derek said, and he quickly continued before Stiles could overanalyze what he meant by that. “That whole thing with Parish…”

Stiles’s eyebrows creased, “Why are we talking about him, Derek?”

“Stiles, I need you to know how sorry I am.” Derek said earnestly.

Stiles’s eyes hardened when he realized the topic wasn't about to go away. “I don’t want to talk about him, Derek. Not right now.”

“I do, Stiles, I need to. I need you to know that I mean it when I say I’m sorry.” Derek pleaded.

Stiles continued to search his face. “You keep saying that.”

“Because I—.”

“Mean it. Of course.” Stiles finished. He took a step back from Derek. “Why are you thinking about him right now?”

“Because I know it bothers you!” Derek said, taking a step toward Stiles to fill the open space. “I can see it still hurts you, and I can’t do this if he’s gonna be in the back of your mind the whole time.”

“Well then maybe you should’ve thought about that before you screwed him.” Stiles said venomously.

Derek deflated completely. “I know.” He said dejectedly. “I know.”

“I know that you know, but I want you to prove it to me, Derek. I was serious. It’s gotta be you and me, Derek.”

Derek took a deep breath. The word was looming in the air, The Big C.

Commitment: Derek’s arch-nemesis.

“Stiles…” Derek began.

“No. Don’t ‘Stiles’ me, tell me what’s going through your mind right now.”

“I can’t—I…I don’t know…” Derek stammered, and this time he was the one to step away from Stiles.

“Do you not want me?” Stiles asked softly.

Derek shook his head, “You know I do.”

“I don’t, actually, that’s why I’m asking.” Stiles said shortly. “So what is it Derek?”

“You’re gonna get hurt, one way or another.” Derek admitted miserably. “By me or someone who wants to use you to get to me, either way you’re gonna pay the price.”

Stiles nodded before shrugging. “Okay, so here’s my suggestion: Don’t hurt me and let me take care of myself and whoever thinks they stand a chance against the all-powerful Phoenix.” Stiles said cockily.

Derek just stared at him. “I don’t want to put that on you.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “In all my years of dealing with the supernatural, I've had a lot of shit put upon me that I didn't want. I want this.” Stiles said, stepping into Derek’s space.

Derek felt his resolve breaking. “What do you want from me, Stiles?” He asked quietly.

Stiles took his jaw in a firm grip, his fingertips digging into the stubble as he jerked Derek’s head to face him dead on. “I want you, Derek. Brooding, laughing, singing to ABBA, I want it all.”

Derek was going to kill Elizabeth for telling Stiles about ABBA.

“But I only want you if you’re going to be mine, Derek. And I mean it, you've got to be all mine. I’m an only child, I don’t like to share.” Stiles finished, trying to cover his possessiveness with a joke.

Derek’s revolve finally broke and he leaned in to chastely kiss Stiles. “I can be yours.” He said softly against Stiles’s lips.

Stiles’s eyes glinted with victory. “Good. Now after tonight, I never want to hear Parish’s name come out of your mouth ever again, understood?”

Derek just nodded and accepted the kiss that Stiles gave him in return.

“You know…” Stiles said between kisses. “It’s too bad Veneficus picked tonight to get power hungry.”

Derek quirked an eyebrow as he peppered kisses across Stiles jaw and across his neck to let him speak.

“I had big plans for the after party.” Stiles said slyly. “But now all our friends are fighting evil which really puts a—oh!—damper on the night.” Stiles sighed as Derek continued his assault on the sensitive skin on Stiles’s neck.

Derek’s snicker tickled the skin and raised bumps on the flesh that his mouth was resting on. “Fighting evil? They’re probably still fighting about who rides shotgun.”

Stiles laughed in the way that Derek liked so much and he moved back up his neck and toward his smiling mouth, kissing the skin around it until Stiles got with the program and kissed him back.

“Mind telling me exactly what those plans where?” Derek growled against Stiles’s swollen lips after their kisses hand become dizzying and desperate, leaving Derek clinging helplessly to Stiles’s suit jacket as the boy assaulted his mouth with skill that he didn't know Stiles was capable of.

Stiles’s eyes opened and glinted in the most delicious of ways before the boy slipped from Derek’s arms and sauntered slowly toward Derek’s room, holding Derek’s concentration with every swing of his hips. “I think it calls for a more hands-on demonstration, don’t you?” He called over his shoulder as he disappeared into Derek’s room.

Derek rolled his eyes and bit down hard on his own fist to keep from coming in the spot. He didn't know where the Stiles he knew went, but he wasn't going to complain about the deviant who had taken his place, especially not when he saw Stiles’s red jacket slide across his bedroom floor after being gracelessly tossed aside. 

As he slowly made his way towards his room, he heard Stiles’s uncharacteristically rough voice coming from within his room.

“You know, Derek. You were my first choice as a date, did you know that?” He asked breathlessly. Derek decided to take his sweet time getting there to make Stiles wait. “I only asked Elizabeth because I knew she wouldn't try anything with me.”

Derek hummed appreciatively at that.

“I didn't want anyone else there with me, Derek. I wanted it to be you.” He continues, his voice sounding more wrecked by the minute. “But you weren't there, so I had to improvise.”

Derek stopped walking.

“See, Elizabeth’s great looking, but she’s nothing like you. She’s soft curves and you’re hard edges, aren’t you?” Stiles asked tauntingly. “So I went and found what I wanted.”

“I saw that.” Derek growled.

“Oh, poor Sourwolf. Were you jealous?” Stiles mocked in fake sympathy. “Imagine how I feel, having to lie here in the bed you fucked the others in.” Stiles spat out.  
Derek winced, but Stiles kept talking.

“But let me tell you Derek, they were great. All those guys I danced with? They wanted me, Derek. They wanted me when you didn't.”

“I always wanted you, Stiles.” Derek replied as he began walking towards the bedroom again. 

“But you weren't there!” Stiles whined breathlessly. “But I pretended you were.” He added as his voice dropped back into its deeper register. “Everyone I danced with, I pretended they were you.”

Derek’s mouth ran dry.

“I let them put their hands all over me Derek, because so long as I pictured your hands instead, I really didn’t mind.” Stiles continued. “I let them grind into me, pull me as tight as they wanted. I let them use me, Derek. But I wished it was you.”

Derek leaned against the door frame and peered in to find Stiles lounging in his bed wearing only his white dress shirt rolled to the elbows and his red suit pants which were already unbuttoned at the top.

“The best part was when I let this kid from my math class pin me up against the bleachers and kiss me ‘til I felt numb. He’s one of those kids that can miraculously grow facial hair despite being seventeen. I guess I just wanted to know what it felt like.” Stiles finished, his eyes boring into Derek as he tipped his head enticingly to the side.

Derek swallowed thickly before taking a few more steps into the room. “Well do you have a kiss for me now?”

Stiles’s face suddenly shifted into mock sympathy again. “Oh, no.” He said sweetly. “No, Derek. You don’t get to touch me for a very, very, very long time.”

Derek’s heart nearly stopped. The thought of not getting his hands all over Stiles in the immediate future was making him and his wolf crazy.

“Is this still about him?” Derek asked, his voice sounding foreign even to his own ears. He was, of course, talking about Parish once again despite their earlier promise not to bring it up. “Because I’m really, really sorry, Stiles.”

“Derek, don’t waste your time.” Stiles simpered. He wasn't angry, Hell; Derek would go so far as to say that Stiles looked to be enjoying himself. “And from now on, it’s going to be nothing but tight, tight pants around the loft.” He added breathlessly. As if to emphasize his point, he brought his palm down on the front of his pants, grinding his cock against his hand and putting the sturdy muscles of his legs on display.

Derek was going to die. He was looking at Stiles like he was a river running through the middle of the desert. He couldn't remember ever wanting anything more.

“And you know something else, Derek?” Stiles continued in the same soft, taunting voice. “I am just so sick and tired of wearing boxers…” He allowed his words to trail off as he watched Derek move closer to him.

Derek’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before finally blurting out, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Stiles said with a small laugh. “In fact…” He added, slipping his hands over his body before they came to rest on his hips, fingers tangling in the belt loops. “I've decided to throw ‘em all away.” He finished, pushing his pants down just enough so that Derek could see where Stiles’s happy trail disappeared between the sharp v of his hips.

The air rushed out of Derek’s chest as his knees nudged the end of the bed. He collapsed onto his hands and knees in front of Stiles, cataloging every inch of skin that revealed itself.

“So take a good look, Derek, because you’re going to be seeing an awful lot of this around the loft.” Stiles said with a wicked smile, shifting his hips enticingly and causing his pants to strain over the obvious hard on trapped in the red fabric.

He takes it all back; Derek’s arch-nemesis is not commitment. It’s those fucking pants.

“Yeah, Stiles…” He growled weakly, crawling toward Stiles slowly before the boy pressed the toe of his shiny dress shoes to Derek’s forehead and pushed him back a few inches.

“But no touching.” Stiles said firmly.

Derek whined low in his throat as his face dropped into his covers. This was Hell, he was sure of it.

“What’s wrong, Derek?” Stiles asked in his sickly-sweet voice.

Derek picked up his head and glared at him.

Stiles just laughed and readjusted his pants before slipping from the bed and leaving the room. “Come on, I want you to make me something to eat. I’m hungry.”

Derek stared incredulously at where Stiles had been lying just a few moments ago before dropping his face back into his bedding and howling at the top of his lungs.

Stiles just laughed some more.

***

Scott slammed on the breaks as they approached the house and the car continued to skid until it nearly hit the front steps of the burning house. He flung the door open and looked up in complete horror to watch the house’s already broken façade dissolve into further decay.

Peter had pointed out the smoke billowing in the sky and with hammering hearts their convoy had driven through the darkness toward the source until they saw a bright, writhing light in the distance.

Scott sprang from the car and both hands ran through his hair in a sign of stress. “Call him! Someone’s got to call him!” He yelled as more members of the pack cautiously exited the Camaro. Behind him the Jeep jerked to a halt and Elizabeth stumbled out of the car with a look of terror on her face.

“No…no!” She cried, running toward the house as if her proximity could put out the flames. Isaac caught her around the waist and held her back as she failed desperately in his arms.

“Who’s calling him?” Scott barked.

The pack looked amongst themselves with equal looks of trepidation.

“I’m not so sure that’s a great idea.” Boyd said.

“Why the hell not?” Scott cried.

“Because if we tell him, he’ll come, and he’s gonna bring Stiles.” Erica said.

“My thoughts exactly.” A smooth voice carried to them from within the burning walls. A sleek black figure emerged from the flames completely unscathed. It moved soundlessly save for the intermittent tick…tick of his cane against the scorching floor boards. “How else was I to bring the boy here?” He continued in his velvety drawl.

Elizabeth froze in Isaac’s arms. “Veneficus.” She whispered.

He tipped his face upward and the pack got their first glance at his face. His weathered skin hung droopily on his face and his lifeless eyes stared out at them from behind gold rimmed glasses that glinted in the firelight. Medium length tufts of white hair framed his aged face, and his thin mouth stretched into a pleased smirk.

Elizabeth’s eyes flared white. “You haven’t changed.”

Veneficus just continued to smirk as if the skeleton of the home he was standing in wasn't falling to pieces all around him. “Why fix what isn’t broken?” He retorted. “But I’m not here to talk about me…”

“You shouldn't be here at all!” Scott interrupted.

“Manners!” Vereficus said coldly, and with a lazy flick of the wrist he sealed Scott’s mouth shut. The boy looked panicked as his voice strained to break through his clenched lips.

“What are you doing to him?” Kira asked in a panic as she took a few steps toward Scott.

“Teaching him a lesson.” Veneficus said with a humorless laugh.

Scott continued to try wrenching his mouth open, but to no avail. He howled miserably from behind his sealed lips, his eyes flashing a haunting crimson.

“As I was saying, I’m not here to talk about me, Elizabeth.” He said, his voice dripping with mockery as he over pronounced every syllable of her name. “I want to talk about you and, more importantly, your friend Stiles.”

“You’ll never get him. The Phoenix will kill you, just like it did last time.” Elizabeth responded angrily.

“He never killed me, stupid girl, you can’t kill me!” He cried angrily, and from somewhere behind her Elizabeth heard Lydia mumble “Oh come on, not this shit again.”

“The Phoenix knows it can’t take me, Elizabeth. Life is fragile, but Death?” He extended his arms out wide, presenting himself like a god. “Death is absolute. It’ll come for your little mutt friends, it will come for you, and someday it will come for the Phoenix, and I intend to watch.”

“So if he didn't kill you, what did he do?” Elizabeth asked.

Veneficus’s face fell slightly. “He trapped me. He trapped me and then he disappeared as well. He trapped me within this dull, ancient skin and doomed me to live eternal life in here, and then he cursed himself to the same fate.” He explained with thinly veiled contempt. “He confined himself to meager human bodies, bouncing from mundane to mundane until one day he finally slipped up, and chose your dear Stiles as a host.” His taunting smile returned. “The boy was magic. The Phoenix festered inside of him and when he was released, so was I.” He finished with glee. “Imagine my surprise!”

Elizabeth sneered at him and began to advance on his shadowy figure. “You should’ve stayed gone.” She said venomously.

“But if I hadn't returned, we wouldn't be having this lovely reunion.” He drawled. “I came just as soon as I felt the Phoenix rise again. You should have seen my face when I discovered that not only was the Phoenix in Beacon Hills, but also the Witch!” He said as if fate had never dealt him a sweeter hand.

“You can’t take us.” She spoke fiercely.

“You can’t stop me.” He replied in a soft, mocking whisper.

“The Hell I can’t.” She growled, and with a wave of her hand sent Vereficus soaring back into the flames.

Scott let out a gasp as his jaw loosened, coughing and sputtering while he clutched at his throat. Elizabeth strode over to him and gripped him by the shoulder. 

“Call him. Now. I can’t fight him alone.”

“How’s he supposed to help?” Scott managed to choke out between gasps.

“He won’t, Stiles will.” Elizabeth said gravely, watching the open door of the house for any signs of movement. “Hurry, Scott. Before he comes back.”

“Yes, Scott, hurry! Before I come back.” A chilly voice spoke from behind their backs. 

Scott was lifted from the ground and tossed into the forest without another word, and Vereficus clasped his spindly fingers around Elizabeth’s throat and dragged her face within inches of his. “Let’s get this started, shall we?”

Her mouth was working around a retort when Isaac threw his body against the sorcerer’s frail frame. He dropped Elizabeth as his body crumbled to the earth. Immediately Boyd and Jackson were on him; Boyd taking him by the arms and flinging him towards Jackson who delivered a punishing punch to his gut. He rolled pathetically across the ground and came to a stop a few feet from Lydia. In turn, she loaded her handgun and cocked it before aiming it at Vereficus’s back. 

“Lydia…Lydia wait!” Elizabeth cried, but there were already four bullets in the air. But that’s all they were: in the air. Their progress had stopped and they remained suspended halfway between the barrel of the gun and Veneficus’s back.

He sat up slowly, chuckling darkly as he turned his face to look at the pack. “Bullets? Really? Child’s play.” His were then enveloped in darkness and the bullets were sent speeding back at Lydia.

“No!” Elizabeth and Jackson cried. Elizabeth managed to stop each one just in time and send them falling harmlessly to the ground, clattering softly at Lydia’s feet.

When they looked up from where the bullets had fallen, Veneficus was gone once again.

Scott burst from the tree line with his eyes blazing red and his phone held to his ear. 

“Derek. He’s here. Veneficus is here.” He said urgently and after a pause, he spoke gravely. “He’s at your house.”

The pack turned to follow Scott’s gaze and they watched as the Hale House continued to burn just as it did all those years ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> W E L L H E Y !
> 
> So Stiles and Derek finally got a clue, but I enjoyed toying with the idea that Derek was still on major probation with Stiles. The scene from The Wolf of Wallstreet was just so brilliant that I wanted to see how it played out between Derek and Stiles.
> 
> Okay, only a few more to go!! Thank you again for reading and giving feedback!!


	21. A New Legend

Stiles hadn't been able to find the right words to comfort Derek and had instead spent the entire ride fidgeting uneasily in the expensive leather seats of Jackson’s Porsche.  
Derek told him over and over again that he’d be fine and that nothing would happen to him, but Stiles couldn't help the fear bubbling in his gut. It wasn't every day that a thousand year old sorcerer had your name on the top of his hit list.

Stiles was considering writing a book about the utter ridiculousness that was his life when he leaned forward in his seat to gape at the swirling mass of smoke above the preserve.  
Derek pressed harder on the gas.

Driving a sports car through the terrain of the forest was no easy feat, but nevertheless they eventually arrived at the site of the burning house. Stiles looked to Derek with sympathy.

Derek’s eyes were trained on the dark silhouettes of the pack scampering in front of his house. Stiles turned to look as well and could distinguish Verevicus’s billowing coat from the crowd.

“We’ve got to go. Come on.” Derek ordered, flinging open the car door and stepping out into the smoky air. Stiles followed, gagging a bit on the overwhelming smell of fire in the air.

The sound of their car door seemed to alert Vereficus to their presence. He turned cold black eyes toward them and smiled an empty smile. With a wave of his hand the fire was extinguished and the house’s charred remains smoked feebly. He swung his cane in a wide arch and sent every single member of the pack to their knees with a cry of pain.  
Veneficus’s eyes were greedy as they roamed over Stiles’s body. “The Phoenix!” He greeted warmly, like this was some kind of extravagant party and Stiles was the guest of honor.

Derek growled at his side, shifting quickly into the wolf. Veneficus’s eyes slipped to him for a moment before reverting back to Stiles. “And this is your…pet?”

Derek didn’t like that at all if the roar rumbling the trees nearby was anything to go off of.

Veneficus just laughed. “How charming.” He said blandly.

Behind his back Stiles could see the pack in varying states of exhaustion. Elizabeth was using a severed piece of her dress to tie around a gaping cut in Kira’s arm, while Scott lay knelt on the ground with his forehead pressed to the dirt, breathing heavily with his hands clutched to his stomach as Isaac sat on the ground beside him and tried to talk him through the pain. Jackson and Peter were kneeling over Lydia who was speaking feverishly of all the screaming voices in her head. Boyd and Erica were crouched nearby in a heated discussion amongst themselves in which Boyd was adamantly telling Erica to go home while Erica was telling him to shove that suggestion right up his ass.

Stiles looked back to Veneficus. “Let them go.” He said calmly.

Veneficus quirked an eyebrow. “Who?” He asked, looking behind himself at the tired pack. “Them?”

“You don’t want them. You want me.” Stiles said.

“Stiles, shut up.” Derek gritted through his teeth. Stiles ignored him.

“Wrong. I want your power.” Veneficus clarified. “And to get your power, I needed a way to get you here.” He gestured to the pack. “They’re simply the means to an end.”

Stiles felt anger boil inside him and his will to fight bubbled in his chest, coursing through his veins and setting his eyes alight with amber. “Then let’s end it.”

Veneficus smiled. “Why so eager? I thought we might have a chat.”

Stiles just advanced on him, firing off a litany of the most powerful hexes and curses Elizabeth had taught him. Out of his peripherals he saw Derek rush towards the pack.  
Veneficus shielded himself from the onslaught of attacks and in turn swung his cane wildly and attempted to knock Stiles backwards. Stiles broke through the push of magic and continued on.

His hands were burning with flames that were licking their way up his wrists, his entire body felt illuminated with energy as he went round after round with Veneficus which brought him all over the Hale property. 

At one point, when Veneficus had momentarily seemed overwhelmed by not only Stiles’s attacks, but by the returning attack of the Pack as well as Elizabeth, he’d pulled Jackson and Boyd to him by invisible binds and breathed a dark black smoke down their throats. He dropped them immediately after with a wicked laugh and returned to his ongoing battle with Stiles.

“Jackson?” He heard Lydia cry as he deflected Veneficus’s latest attack. He turned briefly to see Jackson hulking toward Lydia with dark, unblinking eyes. Boyd looked about the same as he challenged the combined forced of Scott and Isaac.

“You can’t rely on your friends to save you, now, can you?” Veneficus taunted. 

Stiles snarled and fought harder. Half the time he didn't even know what he was doing. He felt like there was a foreign entity in his body telling him what to do, and he could only assume that was The Phoenix that Veneficus craved so much. The Phoenix was nothing like the Nogitsune, which twisted his mind and his emotions to its liking. The Phoenix thrived on Stiles’s passions, coaching him but never controlling him, it only pushed him to fight harder.

“I don’t need saving.” Stiles said harshly, and with a well-timed strike he blew Veneficus through the weakened walls of the Hale house. He quickly followed after him, hoping to capitalize on his advantage.

Inside he found Derek wresting with Jackson, and upstairs he heard Boyd growling and Erica and Isaac ordering each other around and Peter speaking quickly and adamantly with Lydia who was in hysterics about just how loud the voices were getting.

Stiles wondered what brought them into the house, but he figured it was probably strategic. The house, for all its faults, offered more places to hide and rest and in a fight like this, the pack needed all the breaks they could get.

Veneficus was getting to his feet when Stiles got to him. He could see Derek and Jackson fighting out of the corner of his eye, but he knew that would be no problem for Derek. Jackson may have been fast, but Derek was a better fighter. It was the fight between Boyd, Erica, and Isaac that had him worried. That was until he saw a flash of white light and new that Elizabeth was there to help. He even saw Kira run from one room to another, Scott following behind her yelling something about being careful, and knew that they was there as well.

With his friends accounted for and protected, Stiles turned his focus on Veneficus. The sorcerer’s hands were flexing ominously, his cane clutched in one first while he held the other out toward Stiles. His thin lips were quivering and the shadows in his eyes were swirling contemptuously. 

“Go on, do it!” Stiles taunted, ceasing his attack to spread his arms wide in surrender. “Fire away, buddy. I’ll just come back and kick your ass twice as hard.” He said cockily. “You can’t hurt me.”

“No, I can’t.” Veneficus said thoughtfully. His eyes flicked to Derek, whose back was turned toward their showdown as he attempted to fend off Jackson’s barrage of attacks. “Him, on the other hand.” He said deviously. 

With a flourish he pulled the silver handle of his cane apart from the stick and revealed the concealed dagger. He hummed it at Derek’s back before Stiles had enough time to react, before he had enough time to even choke out a warning. All he could do was watch helplessly as the dagger found its way…

“ _NO!_ ”

Elizabeth burst into existence with her back pressed against Derek’s so closely that he felt her body jilt against his as the dagger buried itself in her chest.

A random crack of thunder boomed loudly over the house, rattling the very foundation around them. A deafening screech could be heard from upstairs and Stiles knew it was the cry of a banshee.

Stiles watched in stunned silence as Elizabeth stared at the silver handle extending from her chest before slowly looking up to meet his gaze with tears in her eyes. She swayed on the spot as white light flickered around the wound at the same pace as her erratic heartbeat.

“Elizabeth.” He said breathlessly. “Elizabeth, no…”

In his peripheral vision he saw Isaac lean over the banister and roar brokenly before Erica gripped him by the back of the neck and tore him away.

“There’s nothing we can do, Isaac!” She shouted in a choked voice.

And there was truly nothing Stiles could do as he watched her sway dangerously on the spot, staggering to stay upright as her eyes slipped in and out of focus while flashing a weak, cloudy white. 

Derek spun on the spot as soon as he’d managed to toss Jackson through one of the open windows of the house, giving him enough time to study the look on Stiles’s face and understand what Elizabeth had done before he even got a proper look at her.

Elizabeth’s legs gave out beneath her and she toppled over into Derek’s arms. She made a weak gurgling sound as he knelt to the ground with her, tentatively reaching for the dagger before thinking better of it and instead reaching to push the hair that had fallen across her face out of the way.

Stiles felt boiling hot fury coil in his chest at the sight of Derek fumbling uselessly above Elizabeth as her eyes danced around the ceiling in a panicked daze. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. Elizabeth had done so much for the pack, she’d done so much for him, and for Derek, and for anyone who she’d ever come in contact with. 

Elizabeth was good. She didn't deserve this.

It was that felling of injustice and indignation that he held on to as he felt the warm rush of the flames curling up his arms once again. This time they extended as far as his shoulder blades as he flexed his hands open and shut. His burning eyes fell on Veneficus as they relit with righteous fury.

To his credit, Veneficus looked just as horrified as anyone else in the room at what he’d done. Stiles knew, with a spike of hatred, that he was only mourning the loss of one of the essential pillars of magic. If Elizabeth died, The White Witch moved on and he’d have to find her all over again. The body housing her meant nothing to him, which only served to rile Stiles up even more.

The shift between his own consciousness and that of the Phoenix was so smooth he’d hardly noticed it was happening until he spoke in a voice much rougher and more regal than his own.

“You’re going to wish you hadn't done that.” He said venomously. By raising both of his arms with open palms facing upward he lifted Veneficus from the ground, suspending him in the air and watching him writhe against the invisible bonds. He could feel the weak push of Veneficus’s magic attempting to disrupt his own, but it was no use. Stiles was anchored and The Phoenix was feeding on Stiles’s burning need for vengeance. 

It seemed to dawn on Veneficus that this was the end of the line. With a terrible roar of anguish and defeat, he turned his magic on the fractured remains of the house as opposed to Stiles. A swirling black mass surrounded the entire exterior and as it circled about the house it tore off the charred siding and broken shutters creating an ever growing vortex of debris and darkness about the house.

Stiles pressed on, spreading his arms further apart which forced Veneficus’s legs and arms to splay wide open, his body stretched before Stiles in midair like some sort of sacrifice.

“This ends here, Veneficus, once and for all.” He said with fierce conviction that wasn't entirely his own. Slowly he began uncurling his clenched fists, and as he did so lines of brilliant fire broke across Veneficus’s skin. Stiles entirely lost control of his own body for a moment as The Phoenix called out what Stiles would assume to have been an exorcism. When he regained control, Veneficus’s body was nearly covered in lines of fire that almost looked like veins on his skin.

“If you kill me, you’ll be alone!” Veneficus choked out. “She won’t survive!” He called, looking pointedly to Elizabeth. “It’s you and I, now!”

Stiles steeled his nerves as he shook his head. “I’m not alone.” He spoke firmly, and he didn't waste any more time before spreading both arms out at his side with clenched fists, effectively scorching Veneficus and watching as the ash that had once been his body fell to the ground like black confetti. The vortex stopped swirling around the house and Stiles heard the tell-tale clatter of the debris hitting the ground.

He breathed harshly in and out as he came down from the high, his eyes lingering on the growing pile of ash on the ground until he was pulled away by the weak, desperate whisper of his name.

“Stiles.” Elizabeth said softly, bringing his attention to her.

Stiles turned as got his first good look at her since she’d taken the dagger intended for Derek. Her skin was ghostly pale and her entire body was shaking. Her teeth were chattering and her eyes couldn't seem to hold their focus for more than a minute. Upstairs he heard Boyd’s voice rough with confusion as he asked what happened. All he got in response was a broken sob.

Stiles felt his heart clench as he took tentative steps toward her. This was real. This was so heartbreakingly real and he couldn't believe this was happening again.  
She seemed to know what he was thinking and desperately reached for him with a shaking hand. He wove their fingers together and clutched her hand tightly in his own.

“Stiles.” She said again, just as weak as before.

“Elizabeth, please, no…” Stiles pleaded, his eyes welling with tears no matter how hard he tried to fight them.

“This isn’t your fault.” She wheezed, pulling his hand to her lips to drop a soft kiss on his knuckles. “This is my choice. This is what I wanted.”

“It was a stupid choice, Elizabeth. Why did you do this to yourself?” Derek asked, his voice sounding strangled. Stiles wondered if he was holding back tears.

Elizabeth’s eyes searched his face incredulously. “I had to protect what was mine.” She whispered reverently.

One by one another pack member joined in the huddle around Elizabeth’s shaking body, Jackson arriving last and still looking out of it after the possession. Isaac and Scott dropped to their knees beside Stiles and Derek while the others stood close by, hovering over her and watching on silently as she sputtered through her last words. 

“Don’t leave, Liz. Come on, you can fight this.” Stiles pleaded, squeezing her hand tighter.

“I can’t, Stiles. I can’t.” She whined, her breath speeding up as she panicked. “You’ve—You’ve gotta promise me s—something.” She spoke quickly.

Stiles nodded, “Anything, Liz. Anything you want.”

Elizabeth looked between Stiles and Derek before smiling softly. “Take care of Sourwolf for me, alright?”

Stiles and Derek looked at each other, and for the first time Stiles saw just how much this was killing Derek. “Of course I will.” Stiles said seriously, still holding Derek’s stare.

“And you.” She spoke quickly to Isaac. He perked up under her attention and waited for her to continue. “Did you really have a crush on me?”

The pack all laughed through the tears in their eyes as Isaac blushed five shades of crimson before shrugging and admitting what was hopelessly obvious.

Elizabeth just smiled and dropped Stiles’s hand in order to take his and drop soft kisses to his knuckles as well.

“You promised you were gonna stay, Liz.” Stiles whispered brokenly as the white light around Elizabeth’s heart began to flicker fainter than before. “You’re family, remember? You gotta stay.”

Elizabeth just shook her head weakly. “Things don’t always work out the way we want ‘em to Stiles.”

“Elizabeth, please.” Derek whimpered, and Stiles watched with an aching heart as Derek finally broke, curling over Elizabeth’s body.

She soothed him with her free hand, running it though his hair as she shushed him. “You’ll never lose me, Der. I’ll always be right here, alright? I’m gonna be right here.” She whispered. “I’m going to fix everything, alright?”

Derek looked at her with red rimmed eyes. “What do you mean?” He asked in confusion.

“I’m going to fix it all, Derek.” She said dreamily. “I’m going to fix it, and everything will be okay.” Her eyes slipped shut and for a heart stopping moment Stiles thought that was it. Lights out.

But her eyes reopened with a brilliant flash of white light, so bright that the pack had to wince in its wake. The light poured from her eyes and radiated all about her body, glowing bright and strong. Steadily the light grew, moving beyond just her body and gliding gracefully across the charred floorboards of the house. 

As the light slid across the floor in all directions the ash and soot left behind from two fires lifted from the wood, disappearing into thin air as the floorboards slowly regained their rich mahogany color and began to shine like new again. The light continued on as it slid up the staircases and down the halls, slipping through doorways and moving steadily across the ceiling. Wherever the light touched, restoration followed. The grey, weathered walls were healed of their gaping holes and gradually returned to their original glory, complete with pristine ivory paint and the photographs of the Hale family that had been claimed by the first fire.

Stiles watched in wonder as the house rebuilt itself around them: an oriental rug here, an umbrella stand here, a chandelier that dropped from the ceiling and hung above their heads in the landing. Elizabeth was reconstructing the Hale House from memory, restoring the home to its former glory.

“Is she rebuilding the whole house?” Scott asked in awe as he watched the regal banisters of the staircase mend themselves and stand proudly upon the stairs.

The broken down doors of the upstairs rooms realigned themselves on their hinges, their dirty visages slowly brightening until they were a bright white. Crisp ivory curtains swept up from their ashen graves on the ground and hung delicately from the upstairs windows, all of which were being mended back together by white light, shard by shard.

“No…” Lydia said thoughtfully, walking over to look out one of the new windows. “She’s bringing back the entire preserve…” She said almost reverently. 

Stiles stood up and joined her in gazing out the window at the surrounding forest. What she’d said was true. Elizabeth’s white light was dancing across the land and in its wake it left life blooming vibrantly. Stiles moved quickly to the front door—because the house had a front door now, a beautiful red front door—and flung it open to get a better look.  
He stepped out onto the farmer’s porch, complete with sturdy floorboards without gaping holes or termite infestations, and watched the light glide on through the preserve. 

The grass around the property grew in vivid shades of green that reminded him of Elizabeth’s eyes, and to the right of the house he saw flowers growing where he knew Derek had once buried Laura. The light continued far into the forest where most of the trees had died and fallen into decay. The white light glided up their trunks and wound itself up to the highest branches, leaves bursting into existence as it slid by. Stiles watched as the white light breathed new life back into the land.

When the light was too far away for him to see any more he turned back to face the house. The rest of the pack had joined him outside to watch the light, but one wolf was noticeably absent. He nudged past the pack and stepped hesitantly over the threshold. 

“Elizabeth, come on.” He overheard Derek begging. “Come on, Elizabeth, stay with me. Stay awake.”

But even from where Stiles was standing he could see that Elizabeth’s green eyes were drooping, and the content smile on her face spoke volumes of how she was finally ready to let go. Stiles was able to make out the dreamy words she kept whispering.

“It’s so beautiful, Der. Look at it. It’s so beautiful, Der.” 

Derek just looked at her with a hopelessly fond expression before pressing a kiss to her forehead. By the time he pulled away, Elizabeth’s eyes were dim and her body was limp.  
The White Witch was gone.

Stiles moved slowly across the sleek wood floors. It was an odd sensation not to feel the crush of glass beneath his feet as he moved, but Stiles would take this over the ruined ruble of this beautiful home any day. Elizabeth had done a miraculous job of bringing the place back.

Stiles slowly sunk back into his place at Elizabeth’s side. He ran a shaking hand over her still face before slipping her eyes shut. He mulled over what he could possibly say to Derek that would make this all okay, but found himself speechless.

Derek filled the silence for him.

“Is this my fault?” He asked quietly.

Stiles shook his head adamantly. “She would slap you for even thinking that. This is no one’s fault but her own. She made the choice to defend your life with her own, and we have to honor that choice.” He spoke firmly.

Derek only nodded solemnly. 

Stiles joined him in silence for another few minutes before standing to leave. “I’ll see you around, Derek.”

Derek looked up and seemed to be debating saying something before he nodded and looked back to Elizabeth.

Stiles closed the front door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY I'M SORRY 
> 
> THERE'S STILL A HAPPY ENDING OUT OF ALL OF THIS BUT I DON'T THINK ELIZABETH COULD HAVE GONE OUT IN A BETTER WAY THAN THIS I'M SO SORRY I KNOW THERE WERE PEOPLE WHO DIDN'T WANT ELIZABETH TO GO I'M SO SORRY BUT DONT WORRY I STILL HAVE THIS UNDER CONTROL I PROMISE


	22. Homecoming

Stiles stayed away from the house for nearly a week before returning. He had stopped by the loft a few times, but Derek was never there. Peter was still mulling around, though. It seemed that he, too, was giving Derek the space he needed. Stiles had walked into Derek’s bedroom and found Elizabeth’s clothes all pushed into one corner of the room right where she’d left them. Even without werewolf senses, Stiles could still smell her floral scent lingering in the room.

But he wasn't sad.

If he’d taken anything from his time with Elizabeth it was that he could no longer hide behind blame to alleviate the pain of loss. He had to face it head on, or it would fester and poison his entire life. Stiles had sat in the corner and folded her clothes into piles, running his hands over the soft fabric of her flannels and smiled wryly at the two dresses Lydia made her buy that never saw the light of day.

Just because he wasn't sad didn't mean he didn't miss her.

As he pulled up to the house he got his first real look at its pristine appearance. After looking at the charred remains for all the time he’d known it, seeing the Hale House with its white paint still fresh and its windows clean and unbroken was almost bizarre, but that didn't make it any less beautiful. 

He hesitated before knocking, but when he got no response he just turned the knob himself and went right in. The air within the home no longer smelled like burnt wood, but rather the fresh air of the forest and the floral scent that always seemed to follow Elizabeth around. Stiles stopped to observe the staircase in front of the landing in all its reconstructed glory before following the sound of music into a room at the back of the house that he could only assume was the living room.

That’s where he found Derek, sitting in a comfy looking chair staring at the record player in the corner of the room where a record spun. Stiles recognized it.

“Fleetwood, huh?” Stiles asked, breaking the silence.

Derek started before settling back into his chair with a relaxed expression. “It was my mom’s.” He said quietly.

“My mom had this one, too.” Stiles said as he sat in a chair of his own next to Derek.

“They were destroyed in the fire.” Derek said. “All of ‘em. She used to have a million of these things no matter how many times we told her to get with it and buy a freaking CD player.” He laughed softly and Stiles just watched. “I can’t believe she brought it all back.” He finished sadly.

Elizabeth.

“She did great, the place looks new.” Stiles observed. That night he’d been so exhausted and angry and full of sorrow that he’d hardly been able to appreciate the beautiful magic Elizabeth had done on the house in her dying moments. Even the white trim around the floorboard had been returned to its original glory.

“She did better than great.” Derek said as he got up and crossed the room. 

From a table at the edge of the room he plucked a ghastly vase from where it was sitting and held it in his hand. “This was my mother’s. She received it as a peace offering from a visiting pack. It’s rude to not take it when it’s offered, so she accepted it even though it was the ugliest thing she’d ever seen.”

“Did it go in the fire?” Stiles asked.

Derek laughed as he set it back on the table. “No. Elizabeth broke it and pretended it was an accident. My mother never knew the truth, but when Laura explained why this eye sore was in house; Elizabeth flung it into the wall and blamed it on a ‘burst of excitement’.”

“Sounds like her.” Stiles said softly.

“Yeah, it does.” Derek answered. “She probably put it back in here just to piss me off.”

Stiles laughed along for a minute. “You want to show me the rest?” He asked after a sobering pause.

Derek turned to study him for a moment before nodding.

Derek had led him through the kitchen—which Elizabeth had left unstocked but Derek had found it within his heart to forgive her—as well as every other place in the house from the basement to the linen closet. Each corner of the home was beautifully recreated in the spitting image of its former self, or so Derek said.

They paused outside of the last room that Derek wanted to show him, and seeing as how it had been the one Stiles most wanted to see, he bounced eagerly in front of the door.

“What are you so excited about?” Derek asked dryly with his hand on the doorknob.

“This is teenage-you’s room. Elizabeth rebuilt this place from her memory, and she only knew this place from when you were kids.” Stiles said excitedly. “I can only imagine what’s in here.”

Derek rolled his eyes but flung the door open any way.

Stiles was only slightly disappointed, but that’s because he’d been hoping for at least one embarrassing Sport Illustrated poster to be adorning the walls. Other than that, Stiles deeply enjoyed the aesthetic that the teenage Derek Hale had going on. Much like his current self he gravitated toward the dark colors, but there were bits of his personality strewn about the room in the form of his basketball trophies and his overflowing book shelf.

“She even included my old height chart.” Derek said while still lingering in the doorway. He tapped the tallest marker on the chart which so happened to be a full head shorter than the man standing there now.

“You ought to update that or something.” Stiles teased.

“Is it what you were expecting?” Derek asked as he joined Stiles inside.

Stiles’s face contorted in thought. “I've got to say, it’s a lot less doom and gloom than I’d thought it would be.” He concluded with a smile. He sat down on the bed and sighed contentedly as he flopped back into the soft sheets and pillows that still smelled like Derek. “I think this is my favorite part of the house.” He said happily, toeing off his sneakers.

“Mine, too.” Derek said softly. “Care to know why?” He asked as he slowly walked toward Stiles.

Stiles’s head perked up and he grinned. “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“Because it’s mine. No one else has ever been here but me.” Derek spoke quietly; toeing off his own shoes as he stood between Stiles’s splayed legs as they dangled off the side of the bed.

Stiles swallowed thickly before patting the mattress. “This bed?” Stiles sat up a bit so as to rest on his elbows. “This bed right here? Never broken in?”

“I was sixteen, Stiles.”

“Yeah, but…Kate—.”

“Never here.” Derek cut him off firmly, his voice still quiet as the tips of his fingers traced lazy patterns on the tops of Stiles’s thighs. “Just me.”

Stiles quirked an eyebrow and leaned back against the bed again, wriggling in the sheets with a satisfied grin on his face. “But now I’m in it, too.”

“But now you’re in it, too.” Derek repeated, leaning down to deliver a soft kiss to Stiles’s equally soft lips. He deepened the kiss, nipping at Stiles’s pliant lips and drawing them into his mouth before delving deeper and devouring anything and everything the boy was willing to give him. He didn't stop until he felt Stiles repeatedly tapping his fingers against his back, each finger only once and in order from his left pinkie to his right pinkie. He slowly released Stiles’s bottom lip as he pulled his head back to look at the boy beneath him questioningly.

“Oh, um, you felt that.” Stiles said with a nervous laugh, and Derek watched with wonder as the blush that had already bloomed on the boy’s cheeks darkened. “It’s just this thing I do.”

“Why?” Derek asked.

Stiles refused to meet his eyes. “I do it to check to see if I’m dreaming.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up his face. “That good, huh?” He said cockily.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know what, shut up.”

“Do you dream about me a lot, Stiles?” Derek continued in his taunting voice.

“Yeah.” Stiles answered, breathless and serious.

Derek started and stared down at the boy beneath him. After his brain finally came back online he smiled softly. “Me, too.”

Stiles grinned impossibly wide and pushed himself up to wrap his arms tight around Derek’s neck and drag him back down to the bed with him, bringing their bodies flush together. Stiles groaned appreciatively and Derek responded by gripping the boy’s hips and firmly grinding their bodies together with practiced finesse, unlike certain lecherous high school boys who didn't have the slightest clue about technique.

Stiles’s entire body jerked in response, his hands gripping Derek’s t-shirt tight in his fingers as he bunched up the fabric and dragged it up between his shoulder blades, exposing miles of tanned skin and the triskelion tattoo that Stiles had given way too much thought to.

Derek pulled his lips from Stiles’s just far enough so that he could mumble against the boy’s slick lips. “Stiles,” He said, dragging out the syllables of his name and flexing his grip on Stiles’s hips which caused the boy to sweep his tongue over his puffy pink lips. “You've got to stop.”

Stiles looked horrified for a second. “Why the hell would I do that? Get back down here, right now.” Stiles said, chasing Derek’s lips with his own.

Derek kept his lips within mere centimeters of Stiles’s at all times, but remained just out of the boy’s reach. “You think I don’t remember that shit you pulled last week?” Derek growled, dropping fleeting pecks to Stiles’s lips because he was weak, goddamn it, and couldn't resist when they looked so bitten and pretty like that.

Stiles’s eyes widened comically. “Oh, no. No. I was quoting a movie, Derek. I've already waited a very, very, very long time for you to get your hands on me, I’m not waiting anymore.” He said hurriedly, hooking his ankles at the base of Derek’s spine and grinding their bodies back together with more enthusiasm than finesse, but Derek could care less because he felt the evidence of Stiles’s arousal straining through his jeans. “Touch me, Derek. Come on.” Stiles pleaded, licking Derek’s lips quickly before diving in for a deeper kiss.

And really, who was Derek to deny him anything?

With a low growl that rumbled from deep in his throat he gripped the undersides of Stiles’s thighs and moved him up the bed, bringing his own knees onto the mattress so he could kneel between Stiles’s legs while he pushed his hips fiercely into the sheets. He ducked back down and attacked Stiles’s mouth in another kiss that had his wolf howling in approval.

Stiles whined high in his throat as he tried to grind upwards, but Derek held them firmly apart and watched as the boy got more and more desperate. The hands that were bunched in his shirt let go and raked down his back, leaving bright red lines trailing down the tanned skin before they could fade away. Stiles wished they wouldn’t, and it only motivated him to scratch harder because he knew Derek could take it.

Derek’s lips left his to trail down his jaw, nipping and sucking at Stiles’s flesh until the boy could feel the bruises forming. Stiles took a moment to hate the fact that Derek could leave all the scratches and bruises he wanted while Stiles couldn't leave a lousy bite mark in the guy.

In an act of confidence that Stiles’s didn't know he had, he let on hand drift from Derek’s back to the hard planes of his chest before sneaking under the shirt and lightly dragging his fingers through the dark hairs leading down to Derek’s jeans. He struggled with the button before snapping it open and demanding that Derek take them off.

Derek withdrew from Stiles’s neck with a smirk. “Bossy, huh?” He asked, but stood up and complied with Stiles’s demands. The jeans came off and were quickly followed by his shirt. Stiles took a whole minute just to sit there dumbfounded and hopelessly turned on. When he finally looked back to Derek’s face he was looking at him expectantly.

“Right, me now. Obviously. Because that’s how this works.” Stiles stammered as he, none too gracefully, started peeling off his clothes. When he threw off his jeans to reveal nothing but skin underneath he heard Derek’s breath catch in his throat. He looked up to see his green eyes ringed with a bright blue. “What?” Stiles said with mock confusion. “You thought I was kidding about throwing ‘em all away, Der?” He said sweetly, leaning forward and gripping Derek’s hips to pull him closer.

Derek was totally speechless, which Stiles was used to at this point, the guy wasn't exactly eloquent at the best of times, but he sort of wanted to get the cock that was tenting the front of Derek’s boxers inside of him at some point today so he reached forward and palmed the werewolf through the soft fabric. He nipped at his chest and collar bone and anywhere else he could reach from where he was sitting on the bed.

“C’mon, Derek.” Stiles begged softly, his whiskey eyes looking up and Derek through his lashed. “Come on. I want this. I want you, Der.” He stretched and licked from Derek’s Adam’s apple all the way to the tip of his chin. “Make me yours.”

That was apparently the right button to push because Derek pushed him back into the mattress with one hand while the other reached for his bedside table. Stiles listened as he jerked open the drawer and was confused for a moment when Derek let out a surprised laugh and mumbled. “Oh, of course she would.”

Stiles moved as much as he could under Derek’s hold and saw that the bedside table was full of an expansive variety of lubricants and sex toys. “Guessing those weren't here the last time.” Stiles said with a chuckle.

“Funny how she could do this, but couldn't put some food in the fucking kitchen.” Derek said before plucking a bottle at random and tossing it at Stiles.

Stiles fumbled with it for a moment before looking up at Derek. “What the hell do you want me to do with it?”

Derek barked out a laugh as he crawled back on top of Stiles, his hands trailing down his body before skittering around dangerously close to where Stiles needed him most. “Get yourself ready, Stiles.”

Stiles chocked on air and felt the air around them spike open about ten degrees. “Right.” He breathed out breathlessly. He thought about the best way to do this before throwing all his body weight into Derek and rolling them over so he sat crouched over his hips, ass pressed deliciously into Derek’s cock.

Stiles let himself grind back on Derek messily for a minute before popping the cap and getting his fingers sufficiently wet before tossing it across the room.

He allowed himself a whole second of panic that somehow he’d fuck this up and make an ass of himself and Derek would laugh and kick him out, but then Derek’s hands were running over his body like he mattered and that he was precious and one look in Derek’s stupidly green eyes told Stiles that he was running the show, and that he could do anything he wanted to and Derek would just run with it.

He started slow with one finger, barely adding pressure as his mouth fell open and his eyes fluttered. Derek’s hands kept moving and Stiles could barely focus on breathing because Derek kept talking about how beautiful Stiles looked and how bad he wanted to feel him coming on his cock and Stiles couldn't hold himself back anymore. One finger became two and then he added and third as soon as he could without hurting himself. He fucked back onto his own hand and let slip all the dirty, possessive things he wanted Derek to do to him and for him to let Stiles do in return, and when Stiles opened his eyes he found that he’d actually managed to make Derek Hale blush from his cheeks to his chest.

When he couldn't stand the heat anymore, Stiles reached beneath himself and pushed Derek’s boxers down as far as he could so he could position himself over his cock. His legs were trembling in anticipation and he was just starting to feel self-conscious about how nervous he seemed when Derek grabbed one of his hands and put it over his heart. Stiles felt the hammering of his pulse beneath his chest and knew Derek felt it, too.

Stiles smiled warmly and sunk back, feeling Derek breech him and fill him and before he could completely control it he blew out the two lamps in the room and plunged the room into semi-darkness, only the light from the windows to guide them through this.

Stiles was about to apologize when Derek silenced him by pushing his hips up to meet the boy’s, driving himself harder and further into Stiles with a growl. “Don’t apologize.” He gasped. “It was hot.”

Stiles just rolled his eyes and continued to move with Derek’s thrusts which slowly started picking up speed as the blue that ringed Derek’s eyes flared. Stiles had always fantasized about bringing something animalistic out of Derek, and with a smirk he figured now was as good a time as any to see if he could break him down and get to the wolf.

His body dipped so he could press their foreheads could press together. He dropped soft kisses to Derek’s mouth between whimpers and groans as he begged Derek for more, to go harder, to wreck him so anyone else who ever touched him would never stand a chance of comparing.  
Bingo.

Derek’s grip on his hips was firm as he flipped Stiles and pinned him down, his hands quickly shifting and grasping his wrists as he forced them against the bed. His eyes were all blue now, and Stiles would be lying if he wasn't on edge long before Derek growled out, “No one else will ever touch you, Stiles.”

Stiles’s eyes flashed a bright amber as heat curled in his gut, and with everything inside of himself he had to hold back the urge to shatter everything in the house that had just been restored when a particularly hard thrust send his spine arching and his come spurting against Derek’s abdomen, making him in a way that Stiles was content with.

“Shit, Stiles.” Derek breathed as he followed shortly after, curling over the boy and biting into his neck once more before releasing him and rolling to his side so as to not crush him.

Stiles just lay there staring at the ceiling where a poster of Shaquille O’Neil was pointing down at him with a wide smile on his face. Stiles smiled, too, for some reason. He was so high off his orgasm that he almost pointed right back. Stiles moved ‘Sex with Derek’ into the Number One spot on his ‘List of Favorite Things’ which knocked ‘Curly Fries’ out of the position they’d held since he was seven.

Stiles turned to look at Derek, but Derek was always looking at him with mixture of confusion and elation.

“What?” Stiles asked.

“You said all that out loud, you know.” Derek said with a smile.

Stiles just gaped for a moment before rolling his eyes. “Yeah, well, don’t let it go to your head.” He said with a snippy tone.

Derek just laughed and pulled Stiles closer to him and buried his nose in the back of the boy’s neck in his messy hair.

“You’re a cuddler?” Stiles asked in surprise.

“Shut up, Stiles.”

Stiles just smiled wide and felt Derek doing the exact same against his neck. 

He realized, just then, that he’d been through Hell. He’d bought real estate there. He’d made a home in Hell, but he kept going. He kept going and he kept fighting and it only took nearly two years and a witch from Louisiana for him to find the closest thing to Heaven he’d ever get in Beacon Hills.

 

Later on in that same week, the pack was assembled in Derek’s living room, loudly debating the age old argument of ‘Marvel versus DC’ while trying to decide what movie to watch when the sound of shattering glass broke the flow of their heated discussion. 

They all turned to see the peace offering vase lying shattered on the ground next to the wall that it had just been unceremoniously thrown into.

The silence lingered until Erica broke it. “Good, that thing was fucking ugly.”

Derek remained silent as he stared at the broken shards. 

A gust of wind rolled through the room and blew the ivory curtains around, bringing with it the fresh smell of springtime and flowers. The wolves in the room all sniffed the air with various levels of interest and confusion before they all looked at each other and asked the same silent question.

“You don’t think…” Stiles asked slowly, his eyes flicking to Derek.

Derek’s eyes slid to meet Stiles as a wide grin slowly spread across his face. “Only one way to find out.”

Derek sprang from the couch and the pack followed suit, stumbling through the hallways before coming to a sudden halt in front of the staircase. The door was open, moving gently in the incoming breeze and letting in the muggy heat that always accompanied the impending summer. Both Stiles and Derek had to pause and count out ten fingers on their hands before they could believe what they were seeing.

She stood in the doorway in a white summer dress, her auburn hair rustling softly in the wind with her eyes shining their miraculous emerald color, practically alight with happiness. 

Elizabeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOAH OKAY. I CAN'T BELIEVE IT'S REALLY DONE.
> 
> I'd like to thank everyone who's made my first story on here an awesome experience!! It's so nice to see that people enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!!
> 
> As for Elizabeth's return, I wanted to leave it as ambiguous and open ended as possible. Is it a dream? Are they seeing things? Is it a succubus come to fuck their shit up? Did she survive? Who knows! It's whatever you guys want it to be. (Personally, I'd like to think that although The White Witch moved on, Elizabeth decided to stay in the Hale House as a sort of protective spirit that would guard the house. But that's just me!!)
> 
> Thank you so much, everyone!! I hope the ending was everything you wanted!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first ever story...anywhere...so criticism is welcomed and appreciated!
> 
> Thinking about Season Four, I guess I hope that they actually take into consideration the fact that Stiles is probably reeling from all that happened to him and that he's going to need some serious help to wade through all those feelings. This is my solution to that problem, I suppose!
> 
> Like I said, this is my first story, and all mistake are my own, so if you find one just let me know!
> 
> The Original Character is influenced by Misty Day from American Horror Story, who I absolutely adored. The title is taken from Donovan's 'Season of the Witch', and I own nothing that has to do with Teen Wolf.


End file.
